Echoes of the Past
by Rhythmrains
Summary: A diary, a rose, a ring, and the echoes of the past. This story is a continuation of the ALW movie/musical. EC fic. Raoul friendly. Influences Leroux, and Kay. Romance,Drama,Mystery...complete
1. Chapter 1

**I know the prologue is short, but the first chapter is a lot longer! **

**Prologue:**

_" As I sit here, after having written all of this, I wonder if I've done a mistake. Maybe I shouldn't have started writing any of this, for the memory of it, is just too beautiful and too painful, even for your lifeless pages to bear, dear diary. Maybe I should've let the memories remain a secret in my heart, to continue existing in silence, like they always have, inside the universe of my soul. But my heart was suffocating under the wieght of it all, and it needed to let it out, for the past has been torturing me ruthlessly. And now I feel that a great burden has been lifted from my shoulders. I can breathe again, and amazingly enough, I somehow feel free, and at peace with my heart and soul._

_And in the end, I realize that Life goes on despite all the dreams, and the nightmares that one experiences. The hands of the clock never stop, for any joy, or any grief. Time passes by, and takes everything with it, every smile and every tear, nothing remains, nothing but the memories of once upon a time, the echoes of the past"_

Christine's diary, last page


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter one (Memory)**

(The year: 1920)

Now old and gray, Raoul sat in his rocking chair by the fireplace, silently staring at the flames burning before him. Every dancing flame reminded him of Christine. Visiting Christine's gravesite was his daily ritual now; it was the only thing that made him feel close to her.

It was only last year he had placed that music box on Christine's tomb in hopes of finding closure. Raoul marveled at how quickly time passed by.

The maid came in with a blanket and saw him staring at the fireplace, so completely absorbed in his thoughts.

"Monsieur, are you well? Do you need anything?" she asked.

"No, thank you. I would just like to be left alone for a while," he replied calmly as he looked up at her.

She gently placed the blanket on him.

"This is to keep you warm. A storm is about to blow," she stated.

He nodded; she smiled and walked out of the room.

Raoul stared at the room he was in - the walls were cream colored and pictures of Christine, him, and their son were hanging everywhere, filling the walls with the bright glow of the past.

Raoul smiled to himself while looking at the pictures and paintings that surrounded him; it was as if Christine were still there with him.

"_It's amazing I can still feel her. Christine, my love, oh how I miss you," _Raoul thought with a sigh.

Then his eyes looked straight at the window right across the room. He could see the clouds gathering in the sky; he could hear the wind humming its tunes as the trees swayed violently in its grasp. _"The storm is about to begin," _he thought. This would be the second winter he would see without his beautiful Christine.

As he looked back at the burning flames of the fireplace, he whispered with the utmost of longing and pain, "All the fires of the world can't keep me warm now."

After a moment of reflection, his sight shifted from the burning flames to the old notebook that lay resting on the small table next to him; it seemed like a diary. He had never known that Christine had kept a diary. One of the maids had found it while cleaning Christine's room last year, and Raoul hadn't had the courage to open it.

But now, raising that old diary up in his hands, he thought to himself, _"Little diary, tell me what you hide. Will your secrets haunt me or will they subside. Should I read you, should I know, or should I just let you go?" _

After a moment's thought, with trembling hands, he opened it. Nothing could have prepared him for the secrets that were about to be unveiled before his eyes, as the past returned to life again with all its dreams and nightmares…Memory…

(The year: 1872)

The gentle morning breeze caressed Christine's face and softly whispered in her ears tunes of heavenly beauty, as she slowly turned half asleep in bed, its white silk sheets gently hugging her skin. The early morning rays of light came dashing in. Christine opened her eyes and looked at the open window facing the bed, its beautiful blue satin curtains dancing with the breeze.

She yawned and stretched, and then looked at the other side of the bed, but Raoul wasn't there. Instead, there was a white envelope placed carefully on his side of the pillow. His elegant handwriting on it read: _"To my lovely Christine"_. Christine sat in bed, took the letter carefully in her hands and opened it. It said: _"Christine, my darling, you looked so peaceful, and I didn't want to wake you. I will be missing you every single day I'm away. I love you. I can't wait to be back by your side. Until then, my love. Yours dearly, Raoul" _

Christine smiled and put his note down as she sighed. It was amazing - she was already missing him.

She slowly got out of bed, wore her long white silk robe and stood at the window for a few minutes; that was her morning ritual. Every morning she stood at the window and looked outside at the grand view that lay right before her eyes. The huge garden, the fountain in the middle, the flowers blooming on its every side and the trees swaying gracefully in the breeze, everything about that view was magical.

Christine closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, as if trying to take in all that beauty. She kept her eyes closed for a few more moments, listening intently to the sounds of the universe around her. What a beautiful harmony nature seemed to play, as the rattling of the leaves, the humming of the breeze, and the singing of the birds seemed to unite, creating one melody.

In the midst of the magic of it all, Christine suddenly heard a distant haunting voice, whispering to her from afar, _"Angel." _

She opened her eyes abruptly, as her breathing became heavy instantly, _"Oh, God!"_ she thought to herself, _"I'm thinking about him all over again."_ She scolded herself silently as she thought, _"Raoul leaves on a business trip for a week and the first minute he's gone, I start thinking about another man! What is wrong with me!" _A deep sigh of sadness escaped her lips and dissolved into infinity.

Erik was gone. She knew that, but no matter how hard she tried to get over him, she just couldn't. When Raoul was around it was a lot easier for her not to think about Erik, as Raoul would occupy many of her sensations and thoughts. But now, with Raoul gone for a week, she was left so vulnerable and defenseless against the crashing waves of Erik's memory. The walls she had built around her heart and soul to try and keep him out seemed to tumble down in an instant. And just like that, Erik was all she could think about.

It had been two years since the horrific events that took place on that fateful night in the Opera Populair. In just two days, the anniversary of the tragedy was due. Christine knew that no matter how much time passed by, Erik had changed her forever. He had left his mark on the pages of her life, and she could never erase his bitter/sweet memory. She knew she would never be able to escape his flair, no matter how near or far.

Yes, Christine was starting to realize a lot of things, and a lot of her findings left her lost and confused, as she silently hoped that those feelings would fade and everything would go back to normal. How was she to know that somewhere hiding in the oblivion of the future, another fateful day was waiting for her.

Walking down the luxurious halls of what she now called home, she realized what a lucky woman she was. She was rich, respected, and had a very loving, well-known, well respected husband - and not to mention, very handsome as well. Women would kill to have what Christine had; she knew that, and was grateful for all the blessings she enjoyed.

Having all this still didn't make her happy to the extent she had expected to be. As a matter of fact, silently, she sometimes felt very sad. Music was her life, her soul, her being, her dream, her breath, and without it, she felt lifeless, breathless, and dreamless. Silently, she was choking. Music was taken away from her so abruptly - it was so unfair. But then again, she thought to herself, _"I chose to end the music. I'm the only one to blame." _

She had thought she would be free; instead, she now felt like a bird jailed in a golden cage.

The maid walked up to her and asked, "Madame, you seem sad. Can I help you with something, anything?"

Christine smiled, knowing that Raoul had probably told the maid to take extra care of her while he was gone, and that made Christine love Raoul more. Although she sometimes felt that he treated her like a child, none the less, he was very loving and caring and Christine appreciated that.

"Thank you, but I'm fine," Christine replied curtly.

The maid smiled and nodded, as Christine walked downstairs to the living room; it was huge.

The room seemed to be filled with different shades of blue; the curtains were light blue and the furniture was dark blue. Christine smiled to herself; since she was the one who had decorated the house, it was so obvious even to strangers that blue was her favorite color. Christine continued her walk to the dining room; a huge table stood in the middle, a table that could easily seat twenty people, and there on the head of the table, her breakfast awaited her, fresh and hot, the steam still coming up from it. As she sat down, the maid came in and poured her the coffee and then handed her the morning paper.

Christine never really read the paper; but now that Raoul was gone and she felt so utterly alone, she had told the maid to get her the newspaper, which would, otherwise, have been left in Raoul's office.

Christine raised her cup of coffee and took a quick sip. She opened the folded newspaper and raised it up in her hand. To her shock, she saw a big picture of L'Opera Populair and the title read in big letters, **_"The infamous Opera House which was destroyed by its mysterious phantom is going to reopen its doors in two days on the anniversary of its destruction." and then it said in smaller letters: "Maybe now we can bid farewell to the opera ghost."_**

Christine dropped the paper on the table as if she had seen a ghost. She stared blankly at nothing in specific, as a million thoughts and a million emotions rushed to her heart and mind. She didn't read the full article because she couldn't bring herself to do so. She quickly rose up from the table and ran upstairs to her room to fetch her cloak. She desperately needed to get some fresh air.

The maid came into the dinning room, only to find an empty chair and an untouched breakfast. Her sight fell on the newspaper; she raised it up for a moment, only to be distracted by the sound of footsteps running down the stairs. Danielle quickly walked to the living room, to find Christine rushing out the door,

"Madame De Chagny!" Danielle called out, "You left your breakfast untouched! Is anything the matter? Where are you going!"

Christine stopped in the doorway, took a moment to catch her breath, then turned around and replied, "I just need to get some fresh air, Danielle."

Danielle went back into the dinning room to clean out the table. She knew that after she was done, she had to write a letter to Monsieur De Chagny, informing him of what happened. Danielle was the oldest among the maids and the most trusted by Raoul. He always instructed her to watch over Christine when he was gone. If anything should happen to Christine, anything at all, she was to write him at once.

Walking down the street, Christine could sense that she wasn't alone. She felt Erik's presence around her; she looked around but there was no one. She shook her head softly, trying to shake away the feelings she was having, but to no avail. The crisp autumn wind caressed her face, as the yellow autumn leaves floated around her in every direction. She could feel the dry leaves cracking under her feet, and for some reason that sound reminded her of the decision she made two years ago. She had condemned her love for Erik to die and be crushed, just like autumn had condemned these leaves to die and fall and fade, leaving the tree that carried them bare and empty. And at that moment, Christine felt so bare and empty.

The streets of the countryside were always somewhat quiet and a lot calmer than the streets of Paris. Christine liked the countryside but she missed Paris passionately. She and Raoul had decided to move to the countryside as soon as they got married because being in Paris would always somehow remind them of the past, and they had wanted to have a clean start.

Christine had thought that by moving away, she could put the past behind her; but now, after almost two years of living in the countryside, Christine had started to see the truth. She finally realized that she could run away from the memory for the rest of her life, but she would never be able to escape it or erase it. For the memory of her angel would always live in her heart and soul.

After walking for a long while with only her thoughts and memories as companions, Christine took a decision, a decision that had seemed harmless at the time, but one that would yet again change her life forever, if only she knew.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Two: (Reflection)**

"I want to go back to Paris, Raoul," Christine said calmly as she and Raoul sustained eye contact for a few moments.

Raoul suddenly looked away from her as he walked towards their bed and sat down in silent thought, while Christine waited in anticipation for his reply.

He then looked back up at a waiting, beautifully dressed Christine, who was standing in front of him now.

"But, Christine, darling, I thought that the reason we wanted to move here in the first place was to have a clean start and to start a family of our own as well," Raoul replied.

"I know that we agreed to that, but Raoul, it's just not happening. I'm not getting pregnant. Maybe if we had a child, it would be a lot easier for me. Then I wouldn't feel so lonely, and I wouldn't miss the music so much," Christine stated in desperate longing before being able to stop herself.

When she realized that she had said more than she had intended to, she took a deep breath and continued apologetically, "I didn't mean to sound insensitive towards you, darling. I just miss music so much. Raoul, music is my soul and I can't live without it. God knows I tried, but I just can't. I'm incomplete without music."

Raoul rose up from the bed and held Christine close to him. He looked lovingly into her beautiful brown eyes, a smile lighting his beautiful youthful face.

"If that's what you want. You know I would do anything for you," he answered gently as he placed a loving kiss on her lips.

As their lips parted away from each other, Christine whispered, her voice heavy with guilt and her eyes all teary, "I don't deserve you, Raoul."

She turned away from him in shame, leaving the sanctuary of his arms as she remembered all her thoughts about Erik. She felt as if she were cheating on Raoul by secretly thinking and lusting after another man. She felt terrible at that moment. Raoul was such a great man, but no matter how hard she tried, she just didn't share with him the kind of bond she shared with Erik.

The thing that made her feel even worse was the fact that, deep inside her soul, she was somewhat grateful that she hadn't gotten pregnant. Her feelings about having a child and being a mother were very mixed up at the moment. Before she had wanted them badly; but now, she just wasn't as excited about having them. How ironic it was, not having a child seemed to sadden and comfort Christine at the same time.

"_Who would have thought that I, of all people, would be reluctant about having children!" _Christine thought bitterly.

She wanted a child to make Roaul happy; that was the least she could give him, for all his love towards her. And, well, a child would make her happy as well. Not to mention, it would end all the gossip going around. It would deflate the growing pressures that the De Chagny family was exerting on Christine and Raoul to produce an heir. Christine felt that she was failing Raoul and that made her feel very sad.

On the other hand, she felt relieved because in some strange way, she felt that having a child would cut all her ties to Erik and they would be separated forever.

Yes, although Christine so stubbornly refused to admit it, but that unexplainable bond she shared with Erik, that bond which she so hated and loved, was something she never wanted to break. Somewhere deep inside her heart, she wished that she could see Erik again, if only for a moment. Oh, how she longed to hear him sing to her, but she knew that it was too late.

Raoul had her heart, yes, but Erik had her soul.

Raoul turned Christine back to him and looked into her eyes.

"Little Lotte, don't ever say that again. I am lucky to have such a wonderful woman like you by my side," Raoul replied lovingly.

Christine smiled but she couldn't bring herself to answer. In her heart, she knew that she did not deserve him because she did not love him the way that he deserved to be loved.

He continued, as he moved away from her and towards the cupboard to get his jacket because they were going out to dinner, "Darling, it seems you miss Paris a lot. I am certain that we will have a wonderful time there. I will take you to all the Opera shows you love. After all, there's nothing there to disturb us anymore."

Christine looked up at him curiously. _"What did he mean by that statement - nothing there to disturb us anymore!"_ she thought. "_Has he forgotten about Erik, or_ _does he know something that I don't!"_ But Christine didn't let her curiosity win.

Raoul was accepting of the move and she didn't want to ruin that by more words. Not to mention that inquiring about Erik was just so inappropriate. Raoul was back by her side in an instant.

"Now, my dear, shall we go out to dinner?"

Christine smiled and nodded, "Yes, darling, let's. We need to celebrate your coming home early! It's good that your business trip didn't take as long as you had expected it to. I don't like to be here alone."

Raoul kissed her again and nodded knowingly.

"But before we go, I got you something," he said cheerfully.

He turned around and walked towards the dresser. Christine raised her brow in curiosity.

"Raoul, you keep spoiling me!" Christine chuckled, knowing that he had probably bought her a present.

"Well, dear, it's my pleasure!"

They both laughed lightly as he handed her a beautiful black, square shaped box.

Christine opened it ever so carefully and gasped, as her fingers gently touched the beautiful diamond necklace that lay inside; then she looked back up at Raoul.

"Oh, darling, it's beautiful!" Christine exclaimed

"Not as beautiful as you," Raoul replied in a matter of fact tone as he raised the necklace from the box and placed it gently on Christine's neck.

She turned around to the mirror with Raoul standing behind her. For a few minutes, they both stood there, staring at their reflection.

In the mirror, Christine did not see the poor, naive girl who had come from Sweden, so lost and broken. Christine saw a countess, who was wearing the latest fashion, a long dark purple dress, outlining the perfect curves of her body, opening slightly wider as it fell down to the floor. Her long diamond earrings fell down gracefully, almost touching her bare shoulders, and the necklace had been added as a final touch.

Coincidentally, the big diamond of the necklace was purple as well, as if it had been made for that dress.

Standing behind her, holding her ever so gently and lovingly, was her husband, a very refined, classy man, wearing an outfit of the most expensive linen. Christine was literally living a Cinderella story, and yet, she felt so incomplete. In that reflection, Christine could barely recognize herself.

Although in the mirror, she and Raoul looked like the perfect couple, like the happiest two people on the planet, at that moment, Christine would have given anything to get rid of all these pretences, and go back to the way she used to be, without this choking mask she was now destined to wear.

How ironic it was that Raoul was holding her now, just like her angel used to hold her. And for an instant, Christine saw herself in Erik's arms instead.

Raoul's face was not staring back at her anymore; instead it was the face that haunted her dreams, that beautiful and yet frightening face. It was covered by a half white mask on its right side, and his blazing beautiful emerald eyes were staring back at her. His black-gloved hands where wrapped around her waist now, as he gently swayed her, while he sang _"The music of the night"_ to her. His angelic voice rang ever so clearly in her ears, haunting her, soothing her, tormenting her and seducing her.

And just like that, she was no longer in Raoul's arms, but in Erik's. She was back to being that simple chorus girl, who was dreaming of her angel of music.

"You look so beautiful, darling," Raoul stated, his voice bringing her back to reality.

Christine awoke from her trance with a simple sigh to find herself back in Raoul's arms, back to being the countess.

"This necklace goes magnificently with my dress," she whispered, while gently touching its smooth diamonds with one of her gloved hands. She turned around to face Raoul.

"I'm glad you like it. Now, Little Lotte, shall we go to dinner?"

Christine smiled and replied, "Yes, let's."

He gave her his arm and she gracefully took it.

As they walked out the door, Christine looked back one last time at the mirror, for one last glimpse of that simple chorus girl and her angel of music.

And her reflection faded into oblivion.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Three (Masks)**

The air of Paris was so refreshing; it was like Christine had come to life again. The house in Paris was huge, too, but it needed to be redecorated and cleaned, since it had been abandoned for a long while. Raoul had hired new maids to do the job and to work for them.

Danielle was the only maid who moved with them to Paris from the countryside.

Christine walked around the house with utter joy; she was back in Paris and she was close to the music again. She could have cried at that moment from happiness.

"Happy now?" Raoul asked.

Christine turned around and threw herself at him as she hugged him so tightly, causing him to fall back a few steps. He regained his balance in a moment and returned her hug, slightly laughing.

"I'm overjoyed! You have no idea how much I've missed Paris!" she squeaked in joy.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine spent most of her time redecorating the house; she chose new furniture, new colors for the walls, new drapes, new everything. After all, she could spend as much as she wanted on the house. Raoul had given her a carte blanche to do whatever she pleased with the house and to spend as much as she wanted. Redecorating kept her busy for a while.

Life was good. Christine's life, however, was exceptional. Most of her nights were spent either at the high class parties of Paris or at all the luxurious places that Raoul would take her out to. But the nights Christine loved most were the quiet nights when she and Raoul ate dinner at home and then cuddled next to the fire place for a while, talking about all sorts of things and making love, before she fell asleep in his arms, only to be awakened later on by her dreams of Erik.

During these first few weeks, Christine was also secretly preparing herself to go visit the Opera house. She hadn't dared to open the subject with Raoul yet. She didn't want to upset him, and she wasn't ready either. Roaul had taken her to all the other Opera shows in Paris in an attempt to fulfill her desire of having music in her life again, except for L'Opera Populair, _"And with good reason,"_ Christine thought.

But today, she felt ready and she knew it was time for her to face that music. Raoul was going to be out most of the day on business meetings, so she had no concerns about him returning and not finding her home.

Her black cloak was draped on her shoulders, covering her yellow dress. She closed the door behind her and walked confidently toward her deepest fears and highest joys. She was going to the place she loved and hated the most.

"_There's only one way to get over the pain,"_ Madame Giry had told her once, _"and it's by facing it and releasing it."_

And now her words rang in Christine's ears ever so clear.

As the carriage came to a complete stop, Christine realized that it was time to face the pain; it was time to face the past, but most importantly, it was time to let it go.

Her first steps were slow and labored. Standing at the luxurious entrance of the Opera Populair, Christine's heart missed a beat, as her eyes gazed at the site that lay before them. The Opera house was different now; the colors of the walls were different and the marble floors were of a different design; almost everything in it was different. And yet, behind its mask of new life, the Opera Populair still breathed the air of mystery and tragedy, as every corner seemed to echo visions of the past.

"Christine! Is that really you!"

Christine swirled around at the sound of that voice and exclaimed, "Meg!"

Both girls hugged.

"Oh, Christine, I've missed you so much!" Meg exclaimed with joy. And holding her friend's hand so tightly, she continued, "We have a lot of catching up to do!"

"Yes, we do!" Christine replied with a smile.

Suddenly, Monsieur Firmin's voice rang out loud and clear, "Miss Daae, what a pleasant surprise!"

Christine turned to him.

"It's Madame-" She replied, correcting him but before she had a chance to continue, he had turned to talk to another person.

Christine couldn't help but laugh as she said, "He hasn't changed, has he?"

Meg chuckled and replied, "No, he hasn't."

Visiting the Opera Populair didn't turn out as badly as Christine had expected. She met many of her old acquaintances, including the ever so snobbish, ever so hysterical Carlotta. Yes, Carlotta was again the star of the show, since no other Opera house would take her. And L'Opera Populair took her back, because no other star would accept to work in that place, which was said to be haunted by the Opera Ghost.

Everything seemed to be going back to the way it was, before that fateful night two years ago. And yet, there was one huge difference. Christine learned that the old theater, which was always used before, was now locked and abandoned.

"Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre decided to leave that part of the Opera house just the way it is," Meg told Christine.

Then looking knowingly at Christine, Meg continued, "Too many bad memories in that theater, you know."

Christine could only bring herself to nod back.

After a moment of awkward silence, Christine inquired, "Well then, where do you perform now, Meg?"

"Come, let me show you," Meg replied gaily.

Christine's jaw dropped at the site of the huge theater that lay before her eyes. It was almost a replica of the old theater. Meg filled her in, "You see, this Opera House is huge, and many of its grounds were left useless for many years, so both Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre decided to build a new theater here. They're trying to save their investments, if you know what I mean!"

Both Christine and Meg laughed at the thought.

"Before, this was just empty space, but now…" Meg continued, as she gestured to the new theater.

"It's beautiful," Christine replied.

"Our dormitories are still where they were before, though. Oh, and by the way, did you know that I'm prima ballerina now!"

"Oh, that is just wonderful, Meg!" Christine congratulated Meg, as she hugged her tightly.

Meg laughed as she returned Christine's hug.

Christine and Meg's conversation was cut short as Monsieur Reyer called Meg to join her fellow ballerinas, since it was time for practice. Meg excused herself and left Christine, who in turn sat down in one of the empty chairs and watched as they rehearsed.

How she yearned to be up on that stage, singing and dancing, but it was impossible now, she knew that.

"So, you came back at last," someone told her from behind.

Christine jumped out of her seat in fright, as she swiftly turned around.

"Madame Giry! You scared me half to death!" Christine replied in surprise.

"I'm sorry, my dear, I didn't mean to," Madame Giry replied.

For the next few minutes, she and Madame made small talk, until Christine had gathered all her strength.

"Madame Giry, could you please show me my old room?" Christine asked nervously.

"Follow me," Madame ordered.

Standing at the door of that room, Christine trembled.

"I'll leave you alone for a while, my dear," Madame Giry said knowingly. Christine nodded, now tears filled her eyes.

Her room was still the same - the bed, the walls, the floor, but most importantly the mirror. The room had obviously been cleaned, but it wasn't redecorated. Everything was left the same. Christine stood before that mirror for a few minutes, as her eyes looked straight into their reflection. At last, Christine had come face to face with herself and all the emotions she had been hiding, all the feelings she had been denying, all the hurt and the pain came to the surface.

She collapsed before that mirror in a pool of tears as she laid her head on its cold, unfeeling glass. Her beautiful brown curls fell on her face and shoulders, gently caressing her cheeks, and wiping away her tears.

After a few minutes of uncontrollable sobbing, Christine managed to whisper, "I miss you so much, my angel of music."

Now, she was shaking so badly, she thought she would faint.

"Please, tell me what to do? How can I get over you? How can I forget your music?" Christine pleaded.

She looked up at the mirror again, her eyes desperately searching its every inch, in an attempt to find Erik, or any kind of sign to indicate that he was there, but there was nothing. She yearned beyond words to hear his soothing voice, but she heard nothing but silence.

"Angel of music, you deceived me," Christine breathed in anguish.

And with a broken voice she continued, "When I left you, I thought I would be free. I never expected this."

Then, she took a deep breath, as she wiped away her tears.

"When I ripped off your mask that day, I condemned myself to wear one for the rest of my life. If only I knew then, what I know now," Christine stated painfully.

And with that, she started to cry again.

Never in her life had she felt so utterly alone, as she did now, abandoned by her angel of music and betrayed by her own heart.

How was she to know that somewhere behind the shadows, just a few feet away from her stood her angel of music, watching her, and watching over her, ever since she had arrived at the Opera House… always…

A long time ago, he had accepted the fact that he was destined to remain in solitude. He had tried to get out once, when he had dared to believe that Christine might care for him. But what did that belief do to him; it had driven him to the verge of complete insanity; it had broken his heart to pieces and added to the many wounds that life had given him.

And now, he had sworn never to do that again; he couldn't handle that kind of pain once more. He had accepted the truth that he had tried to ignore for a long time. He was the dark and she was the light and the night and the day do not mix.

Erik heard Christine call out his name with anguish and saw her eyes searching for him desperately, but he still couldn't bring himself to believe that she might actually care for him. For how could anyone really care for a monster?

Erik never thought that he'd survive giving Christine up, but he did, just like he had survived the many cruel injustices and terrible pains that life had so ruthlessly inflicted on him ever since he was a child. Erik was a survivor. Time after time, he had proved to himself that he was stronger than he thought he could be.

Now his heart was closed, and no one was allowed in anymore. Erik had sworn not to repeat that same mistake twice; Christine might be calling out his name now, but he knew that in the end, she would always go back to Raoul.

With a hardened heart and a swift swirl of his cape, he turned around and started walking down the tunnel towards his lair, away from where Christine lay crying. It was time he let her go, completely, just as she was trying to let him go, completely.

But a sound, a loud sound, stopped Erik dead in his tracks.

Erik heard the sound of breaking glass, as Christine's voice suddenly vanished.

Christine felt a small nudge as a pair of strong arms lifted her up ever so gently and carefully; she was starting to come around a little. As she slowly opened her eyes, still very weak and very dazed, she saw a set of piercing emerald eyes staring right back at her, filled with concern and emotion.

Although everything seemed blurry to her at the moment, she still could see his gorgeous eyes ever so clearly.

The darkness that surrounded her in the halls that Erik was walking in scared her. In his arms she felt safe, safer than she had ever been before.

"Angel!" she managed to whisper after a few moments, as she went on to faintly hallucinate, "I don't want to wear a mask anymore," before she drifted back into darkness.

Yes, Christine did not want to wear a mask anymore. She did not want to hide her feelings for Erik anymore. She did not want to be a countess. She just wanted to go back to being that simple chorus girl, whose utmost dream was to become an Opera star and whose ultimate fantasy was to meet her angel of music. Christine wanted to go back to those simple days, and innocent joys and ambitions.

If only dreams came true.

Erik on the other hand, needed his mask, although deep inside he hated it. But his mask was his sanctuary, where he hid from the cruelties of the world. His mask didn't just cover the right side of his face, but it also covered his sadness, pain and despair. With his mask on, he was the phantom of the Opera, and the angel of music, but without it, he was nothing but a broken man.

Yes, the masks that Christine and Erik wore were different, very different, and yet at their core, they were the same.

And as Erik placed Christine ever so gently on the swan bed, he softly whispered, "Our masks have ultimately made us who we are, and nothing can change that."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Four: (Dreams)**

Christine awoke to the sound of music. Tunes of heavenly beauty floated around her everywhere as Erik's fingers played the piano while his soul wrote the notes. Christine looked around for a moment. Scenes of what had happened flashed before her eyes. She remembered she had been crying a lot and as she had risen up in an attempt to leave, she had lost her balance and probably fainted. Her body had become very weak and drained. And then, then something amazing had happened; Erik had come to her rescue, _or was it all just a dream?_

She rubbed her eyes again to make sure she wasn't dreaming. There she was, lying again in that beautiful swan bed, her body covered with its red silk sheets. The bed was so soft and comfortable, and to the side of the bed rested a music box with a monkey on it. It was as if she was reliving the past.

_The past!_ A jolt of fear leapt into her soul, as a million questions rushed to her mind. But in that moment Christine decided not to care, she couldn't afford to. She slowly rose up from the bed.

The music had stopped for a few minutes but Christine was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadn't noticed. Erik had been watching her for a few minutes now. She raised the beautiful curtains up and walked towards him. He was still sitting by the piano staring at her, not saying a word. He was wearing a white shirt and black pants.

Christine's heart was beating like a drum. She was afraid and excited, happy and nervous, all at the same time. Oh, how she wished she could read his mind at that moment! But his eyes, those eyes that burn, were emotionless, calm, and cold. His look made Christine even more nervous, but she didn't show it as she continued walking slowly but confidently towards him.

Now, standing so close to him, her hand gently touched the left side of his face, just as she had done once before. And those eyes that had seemed so cold and unfeeling suddenly had a spark of emotion in them.

Christine's lips came closer to his while her hand caressed his bare cheek, and he closed his eyes, taking in the magical sensation of her touch. It was as if the past was repeating itself; only this time, Christine didn't remove his white mask, this time Christine was following her heart.

As she looked at him lovingly, the whole world seemed to fade away. Reality did not exist anymore. For a moment it was a perfect world, where nothing else mattered. Christine's lips softly brushed against his.

Suddenly, Erik flinched away from her; his eyes snapped open in shock. Christine's soft kiss had taken him by surprise. He hadn't expected her to do that.

Erik looked deep into Christine's eyes for an instant, and in them he saw what he couldn't believe. He saw the love, the desire, and the longing burning in her eyes, just as they were burning in his. Although Erik had sworn never to fall into love's trap again, he couldn't help but take her in his arms, as their lips locked with such passion and fire. This kiss was not like their first kiss; it wasn't a kiss of pity or of farewell. This kiss was a kiss of love, true, pure, deep, passionate love.

Christine and Erik kissed for a few minutes, as one kiss led to the other.

Christine was now sitting in his lap, one leg on each side, between him and the piano.

His arms caressed her waist, going up and down her back, as his fingers lingered inside the beautiful brown locks of her hair, and then unbuttoned a part of her yellow dress. Her hands in turn were wrapped around his neck, as her fingers swam in the oceans of his silky black hair. It seemed as if they wouldn't be able to stop anymore, as Erik's lips shifted from her mouth to her chin and up and down her neck and chest, and then back to her longing lips. Christine sighed in ecstasy.

In those few minutes, Christine and Erik experienced feelings neither of them knew existed, feelings so strong, so beautiful, and so frightening.

Suddenly, everything was shattered away. Reality had come back to haunt them, as Erik abruptly stopped and lifted her up from his lap as he pulled away from her, cutting their golden chain of kisses to broken pieces.

"What's the matter!" Christine pleaded, still dazed by all the passion she had experienced.

Erik did not reply, and Christine's heart fell.

For the next few minutes, Erik paced back and forth, thinking, trying to reach a decision. A tormented look formed in his eyes. Christine sat on the piano bench where Erik had been sitting. She felt so nervous; she wanted to speak but she was afraid. And suddenly, reality hit her, too.

"_What if Erik doesn't love me anymore? What if he doesn't care? Could I have just made the biggest fool of myself? Oh, God, what about my commitment to Raoul? I've just behaved like a whore! How could I have done such an awful thing to Raoul!" _Christine thought in agony.

Finally, Erik spoke.

"This was a mistake," he said calmly.

Christine looked up at him; her big, brown eyes were filled with tears as they met his now icy emerald eyes.

"_What did he mean, this was a mistake!"_ Christine thought. _"Was the mistake bringing me down here, or was it kissing me, or was it both?"_ Christine wanted to ask him, but she couldn't bring herself to do so.

She turned away from him in shame. As much as she would have loved to deny it, it was true - this was a mistake. She felt so ashamed and embarrassed. She felt so terrible, especially when she thought about Raoul. _"How could I have done this to him? I'm a horrible person."_ But the thought that horrified her the most, was the fact that she didn't know what Erik thought of her now.

Tears started flowing freely down her cheeks. Just like that, her dream had turned into a nightmare.

Erik saw her turn away from him. She was trembling so badly, he thought she was going to fall. In that moment, he just couldn't keep his distance. He slowly walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, just as he used to do before.

"Don't cry, my angel. Please, don't cry," he gently whispered, soothing her.

Christine turned around and buried her face in his chest, as his arms wrapped around her again.

When Christine started to calm down, she suddenly pulled away from him. She didn't know what came over her at that moment, but she impulsively looked straight into his eyes and shouted, "Damn you! Why do you torture me like this!"

With all her strength, she rushed to him without thinking and started banging her small fists against his chest as she continued to shout, "I hate you! I hate you!"

Erik's patience was wearing thin. He held her by the arms and pushed her away from him, throwing her on the swan bed. Christine grew silent; her eyes were wide open with fear and passion. He looked at her for a while, his eyes cutting through her heart like a sharp razor, and Christine felt a chill creep up her spine.

Suddenly, Erik walked towards her. He sat next to her on the bed. His breath was heavy now, as he held her face so close to his and looked straight into her eyes.

Christine tried to break free from his grip but she couldn't. She tried to turn away from his piercing eyes but she couldn't, as one hand firmly held her arm while the other held her face toward his.

"You're the one who's torturing me, Christine," he said with a cold, sharp voice that cut like a knife.

Christine was like a scared child in his grip. At the same time, his warm breath burned her skin and gave a rise to fiery sensations inside of her. Suddenly, his grip softened. He gently wiped away a tear that had settled on Christine's cheek. There was no more ice in his eyes; now there was only pain, silent, deep, cutting pain.

Erik rose from beside her and walked toward his piano.

Christine remained on the bed, still shaking due to all the events that had just taken place. She closed her eyes trying to regain her composure, her focus. Suddenly, enchanting tunes burst into the silence. Erik had started to play the piano again. Just like that, Christine lost her focus all over again, as every note seemed to carry her to a new horizon.

Christine did not know for how long he played. Time seemed to stand still in the presence of his enchanting music, as the tunes seemed to torture yet sooth her, to hurt yet heal her.

In that moment, nothing else mattered to Erik, nothing else but the calming yet tormenting tunes. It was as if he was breathing the music and the music was breathing him, exposing all his feelings of loneliness, pain, despair, hate, hope, and love.

Yes, in that moment, Erik and the music had become one.

After what seemed like an eternity to Christine, Erik stopped playing and rose from the piano and vanished into one of the rooms.

His music had left her spell bound. She was utterly speechless at the magic that his fingers and his soul could create on that instrument. No matter how many times she had heard him play before, every time was like the first time.

That was the power of Erik's music.

Erik emerged again with a cup of a herbal mixture in his hands and Christine looked up at him in awe, as he sat beside her on the bed. She was still lost in a trance. His silky voice brought her back to earth.

"Here, drink this. It will make you feel better," he gently ordered.

"What is it?" Christine asked softly.

"A mixture of herbs, just drink it," Erik replied.

Christine took the cup from his hands and started sipping. As soon as she had finished drinking it, she started to feel very drowsy and her eyes became very heavy. She was fighting to stay awake.

Christine's head lay helplessly on the satin pillows of the swan bed, her body collapsing out of her control. Erik knelt beside the bed and gently touched her forehead.

With her eyes barely opened, she whispered, "What have you done to me?"

"Shhh! Sleep now, go to sleep," Erik whispered soothingly as Christine drifted into darkness so peaceful and so deep.

She was completely and literally under his mercy now.

Would he save her, despite everything she had done to him and all the deep wounds she had caused him? Erik had almost lost everything because of her, including his sanity. She had betrayed him and trampled over his heart so ruthlessly. After she left, he had had to rebuild everything from scratch once again, including his strength and focus. He would never allow her to do that to him again.

Would he condemn her, despite everything she had done to him, and all the pure beauty she had brought to his life? She had shown him how beautiful it felt to be loved, if only for a moment. She had shown him how warm it was to live in the light, if only for an instant. She had kissed him, that kiss that still burned on his lips. In the end, she had taught him how to love selflessly. Now she had come back in search of him.

Yes, dreams are beautiful, dreams are wonderful, but in the end, dreams will always be just what they are, nothing but dreams.

Erik knew better than to waste his time believing, hoping, or wishing.

Reality and fantasy do not mix. And even though one might live the dream for a moment, when all is said and done, reality always prevails.

Erik knew that, in the end, all he would be left with is his dream of Christine.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Five: (The Unknown)**

Christine opened her eyes and looked around. She jumped up in disbelief. She was back in her old room in the Opera House, in her old bed, in the place where she had fainted, only to be carried away by Erik.

"Erik!" she suddenly muttered.

"What was that, dear?" Madame Giry replied as she entered the room.

Christine was shocked for a few moments.

"What happened?" she finally managed to whisper.

"Relax, my dear. You just fainted and we found you here," Madame Giry replied calmly.

"Christine, thank God, you're awake! You had us so worried about you!" Meg exclaimed as she entered the room.

Could everything she had lived earlier that day have been nothing but a dream! No, it was impossible! She knew that she had been with Erik; it was no dream! It was real!

But nonetheless, at that moment, she was glad that she was back in the Opera House. She was back to the light of day and away from Erik's spell.

Suddenly a sense of relief washed over her. _"If that was only a dream, it means I never kissed Erik in his lair. It means I never cheated on Raoul, or almost cheated on Raoul," _Christine thought.

Meg's voice interrupted her train of thought, "Christine, are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Christine replied almost absent mindedly.

Christine gathered her focus and rose from the bed.

"How long have I been out?" Christine asked nervously.

"For a few hours or so," Madame stated.

Christine's jaw dropped.

"The doctor said that you fainted due to exhaustion, so you need to take it easy, Ma Cherie, and relax," Madame continued.

Christine couldn't bear not knowing any longer. She needed to get Madame Giry alone, to ask her, to know for sure. This uncertainty was killing her. If there was anybody who could clear things up for her, it was Madame Giry.

"Could you please get me a cup of water, Meg?" Christine asked softly, in an attempt to get Meg out of the room.

"Of course," Meg replied with a smile, and left.

Only Christine and Madame Giry were in the room; they looked at each other in silence for a few moments.

"Madame Giry, there's something very important that I need to ask you," Christine said hesitantly.

Madame Giry listened intently as Christine continued, "But please let this be confidential between you and I."

Madame Giry nodded.

After a moment's thought, Christine started.

"I know that I fainted, but I'm sure that I was with Erik for a while. Madame Giry, how could I have been passed out all this time, if I was with Erik!"

Madame Giry looked at Christine with concern blooming in her stern eyes.

"My dear Christine, you couldn't have possibly been with Erik," Madame replied cautiously, studying Christine's reaction.

Christine looked at Madame Giry dumbfounded at Madame's statement, as Madame Giry slowly continued, "Erik is dead."

Those three words that Madame had just spoken fell like a brick wall on Christine's ears and heart. Oh, how she hated their sound.

Everything started to move in slow motion, as if in that instant the world had stopped in a moment of silence, deep, torturous silence. Christine didn't utter a word or shed a tear; she just closed her eyes, in an attempt to comprehend what she had just heard. Her small body collapsed on the chair by her old vanity table, because she was trembling so badly.

For a few minutes, she just looked up blankly at Madame Giry.

Madame, in turn, was taken aback by Christine's unexpected reaction. Christine just sat there staring back at her, speechless from shock.

"Are you all right, my dear? I'm surprised you didn't know about this earlier. All the news papers talked about it at the time!"

Meg suddenly burst into the room with a cup of water in her hands.

"There you go, Christine."

Christine didn't reply; she just kept staring at Madame Giry.

Meg then turned to her mother and asked nervously, "What's wrong?"

"I just told her the news about Erik."

"Oh!" Meg replied and then knelt next to Christine who was still in a daze and said softly, "There's no need to fear him anymore, Christine. He's gone now. He will never hurt you again."

Christine turned and looked at Meg for an instant, still in complete silence. Then she turned back and looked up at Madame Giry.

Meg rose up confused as she asked her mother, hurt evident in her voice, "What's wrong? Did I say something wrong?"

"Meg, darling, could you please leave me alone with Christine for a while?" Madame asked her daughter softly.

Meg nodded, as Madame Giry added, "She's still dazed. That's all, my dear."

Meg nodded and left.

Madame Giry closed the door and turned to Christine, who had risen up and was staring at herself in the mirror, inspecting every aspect of her reflection thoroughly, as if searching for a sign, something, anything to prove that Erik was still alive and that he was with her.

"How could he be dead, if he was with me?" Christine spoke calmly, yet with an edge of anger.

Christine was now studying her yellow dress; it was simple yet elegant, with buttons hanging a few inches above her chest and all the way down to her upper stomach. Her hands touched the first few buttons several times.

"_How are they closed now, when they had been opened earlier by Erik, when we were together?"_ Christine thought in confusion. She hadn't closed them again.

Madame Giry walked slowly towards Christine.

"Christine, I believe you are still in denial," Madame said calmly.

Christine shook her head vehemently as she replied firmly, "I am not in denial."

Turning around to face Madame Giry, she said with a stronger voice filled with confidence, "Erik is alive!"

After a moment of excruciating silence, Christine continued, her voice calm but as cold as ice, "I should go. I don't want Raoul to return and not find me."

Madame Giry nodded and escorted Christine outside. Before Christine left, she apologized to Meg for being rude.

Christine also gave Meg her address and insisted that Meg come visit, as Meg promised she would.

Madame Giry had now become really worried about Christine. She seemed to be behaving as if nothing had happened.

As the carriage pulled away, Christine thought sarcastically, "Life, what a joke."

She had come to the Opera Populair in an attempt to defeat its power over her, and yet, instead of emerging victorious, she had emerged so battered and so bruised.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine opened the door to her house and walked in, as she breathed the air of freedom. She was back to her beautiful life, back to the world, and despite everything that had happened earlier that day, she felt relief. She sat on the sofa and breathed deeply.

"_Erik is dead. Erik is dead. Dead… Dead… Dead."_ Those three words echoed inside her being, depriving her of any form of rest.

She rose to go to her room and change but as she got up, Danielle frantically barged in.

"Madame De Chagny, where have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you!" Danielle exclaimed nervously.

Christine was taken aback by Danielle's tones. She had never seen calm and wise Danielle so upset like this before.

"I just had to get some fresh air. Why? What happened, Danielle?" Christine asked with worry.

Danielle looked at Christine for a moment.

"It's Monsieur De Chagny," Danielle replied slowly.

"Raoul!" Christine exclaimed in panic. "Did anything happen to him?"

Danielle nodded her head meekly and said with a trembling voice, "He had an accident."

"An accident! What kind of accident!"

"His carriage tilted over and rolled down - "

"Oh, God, please don't tell me! I can't hear this anymore!" Christine frantically said, interrupting Danielle.

"_What a cursed day!"_ Christine thought. Her heart couldn't take it anymore, her soul was weary and her veins were drained. Christine the beautiful had turned pale, as worry and grief appeared on her forehead.

She looked like a ghost at that moment, as the reality of what was happening started to hit her.

Suddenly, she sat back down on the sofa for a moment, her hand on her heart as if she were feeling real physical pain. Her breath started to get heavier and heavier. Danielle rushed to her side.

"Madame De Chagny, are you well?" she exclaimed.

After a few minutes of labored breathing and intense sobs, Christine started to calm down.

"How is Raoul? Where is he?" Christine asked wearily.

"Well, when he had the accident, they wanted to bring him here, but since you weren't here, his parents were informed - "

"So, he's at the De Chagny estate!" Christine interrupted, as if she had just answered a million dollar question.

She swiftly rose and rushed toward the door.

"Take care, Madame, and bring us good news," Danielle called out.

"_Good news,"_ Christine thought with fear building up inside of her, _"what good can come out of this cursed day?"_

In that moment, Christine's heart trembled in fear of the unknown.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine sat in the carriage, silent, frightened, overwhelmed, and grieved. So many things were happening at the same time.

"_Such a beautiful day," _Christine thought to herself, _"how ironic,"_ as she looked out the window at the beautiful scenery of nature. The wind was softly blowing and humming its tunes, the sunshine was warm and gentle, and the trees stood tall and proud, yet slightly bowing to the wind. For a moment there, Christine was lost in the magic of it all, as the gentle rays of light kissed her cheeks and the wind caressed her face, carrying her on its wings into a world of serenity.

The carriage kept on moving and something else caught Christine's full attention. Inside the fields of evergreen that lay before her eyes stood a single red rose, in solitude; unique, beautiful, and alone. That rose seemed to crown that field, with its beauty and mystery, while breathing its scent of life into the universe. She was left breathless in silent reverie at the sight of that rose.

Erik was a lonely soul, solitude his only friend, different from all the rest and yet beautiful in his own way, breathing his tunes of life into the souls of those who would listen, "_Just like this rose that has bloomed inside a field of flowers," _Christine whispered. Tears filled her eyes. How could she not have seen his beauty, his wonder, and the magnificence of his being? _"And yet,"_ Christine whispered to herself, _"even the most beautiful rose has its thorns." _And it was those thorns that had scared her away.

At that moment, Christine yearned for the angel, beyond words. But the field and the rose faded into oblivion while the carriage kept on moving.

Another site caught her attention and her heart started beating like a drum, as she caught a glimpse of a little girl running by the side of the road, chasing her scarf that had been blown away by the wind.

The young girl reminded Christine of herself when she was little. The girl had beautiful brown curls and big brown eyes. She laughed and ran after her light blue silk scarf. The scarf twirled and glided elegantly on the wings of the wind, floating so close to Christine for a moment, like a vision, before sailing towards the unknown.

Christine smiled, as the memory of the little girl by the sea came back to her, a girl who had lost her scarf, and how Raoul had jumped into the sea to get it for her. She thought about the old days, when her father was still alive. She remembered the music and the stories… little Lotte. And now, even though Raoul still called her by that nickname, in truth, little Lotte was no more, and Christine knew that.

Nonetheless, Raoul was her prince and she was his princess.

Thinking of Raoul brought Christine back to dreadful reality and fear started to build up inside of her again. The peace and serenity she had felt for a while vanished, just like everything else.

Christine's smile had turned to a frown. She looked out the window again, toward the distant, beautiful, blue skies. With teary eyes and a pleading heart, Christine silently prayed to God for one thing and one thing alone, _"Strength,"_ as the carriage continued moving on its way towards the unknown.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine entered the De Chagny estate. Raoul's parents welcomed her coldly.

She knew that they hated her and thought of her as a lowlife and a whore, certainly not a woman suited for their son. They despised her, especially because she didn't bear him any heirs. It was enough of a scandal that Raoul had stooped so low as to marry an Opera singer, but also a barren Opera singer, who had had an affair with another man - that was something his parents just couldn't take.

Yet they tried to be civil with her for their son's sake.

Raoul's mother, Marie De Chagny, always managed to throw sugarcoated insults at Christine. Today was no exception as she led her to the room where Raoul was. She looked at Christine and spoke, poison dripping from her tongue.

"Well, my dear, if you had been home, doing your duties as a good wife should, Raoul would not have needed to be brought here," Marie said, venom and poison dripping with every word she uttered.

Christine did not reply. She was too exhausted to be angry.

Marie opened the door of the room where Raoul was. Christine slowly walked toward the bed where Raoul lay, feverish and in obvious agony. Christine felt her heart break. She knelt beside the bed and softly caressed his forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat that had drowned his hair as well. His face was so pale and he was burning up with fever. His lips were swollen. He would even hallucinate sometimes, calling out Christine's name. His body was bruised all over.

Christine looked up at Raoul's mother and asked with deep concern, "Did the doctor come and see him?"

"Of course, he did," Marie replied with a shaking voice and continued angrily, "Did you think that we would leave him like you did?"

Christine looked back at Raoul, not caring for his mother's harsh remarks, and asked brokenly and with tears in her eyes, "What did the doctor say?"

"He said that Raoul is in a critical condition. If his fever doesn't go down within the next twenty four hours, he might die."

Marie's voice broke with grief as tears spilled from her blue eyes. She turned away from Christine, not wanting anyone to see her cry. It was too late; Christine has seen the tears.

When she had calmed down, she turned back to Christine.

"Well, now you have seen him. Leave!" Marie said angrily.

Christine looked up at her in shock.

"I'm not going to leave! He's my husband and I love him, and I'm staying by his side until the end of time," Christine replied firmly.

x-x-x-x-x-x

She sat in silence on the chair by her husband's side, waiting… waiting for fate to announce its verdict… waiting for an absolution… waiting for something that might never come, and that was what frightened her the most.

The unknown, what a frightening word, the torture of not knowing. Christine was literally living the word she hated the most, as she waited to see what the fates had in store for Raoul. Would he live? Would he die? Only time would tell, as the answer lay in the oblivion of the future.

And every moment seemed never-ending, as Christine waited for the reply.

The unknown, what a mysterious word, the torment of not knowing. Christine was literally living the word she hated the most, as she thought about Erik. She knew he was alive, she could feel it in her soul, and yet everyone said he was dead. Was he alive? Was he dead? Was it all a dream? Or was it real?

Those questions had robbed her of any kind of peace, as her heart screamed for an answer, and her soul ached for closure.

But for now, Christine was left with the agony of not knowing, as she struggled under the choking grasp of the unknown.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Six: (Change)**

"_Say you'll share with me _

_One love, one lifetime…_

_Say the word and I will follow you_

_Share each day with me_

_Each night each morning_

_Anywhere you go_

_Let me go too_

_That's all I ask of you…"_

Christine sang softly to Raoul as she sat by his bedside, her voice very weak and shaky. She kept singing for him, until she was too exhausted to sing. After long agonizing hours of torment in the early hours of the morning, a voice called her softly, "Christine."

Christine had been drifting in and out of sleep all the while, so exhausted she thought she would die.

She opened her eyes abruptly at the sound of the voice and looked over at Raoul, who, to her surprise, was awake; the fever had broken.

Christine rushed over to his side and held his hand, sobbing. "Thank God, you're awake! Thank God, the fever broke! I am so sorry, Raoul! I am so sorry!"

Her tears flowed down her cheeks like waterfalls. Raoul painfully moved his free hand toward her face and wiped away her tears.

"Don't cry, little Lottie. Please, don't cry," he whispered faintly.

Christine flinched away from Raoul for a split second, as Erik's words rang inside her being -_ "Don't cry, my angel, please, don't cry."_

"What's wrong?" Raoul weakly inquired.

Christine shook her head softly in an attempt to clear her thoughts as she regained her composure.

"Nothing, my darling. I'm just so happy you're awake," she replied forcing a smile on her face.

As Christine held his hand close to her face, she silently scolded herself for thinking about Erik. She was outraged with herself. She felt such guilt. She thought that if Raoul looked into her eyes, he would find out everything.

"Little Lotte," Raoul said softly, looking deeply into her eyes. "If you really love me, you will go back home and relax."

"Shhh! That doesn't matter now. All that matters is you," Christine whispered.

But Raoul insisted.

"No, Christine, if you love me, you will go and relax, now!" he said firmly.

Christine finally nodded in surrender.

After placing a soft kiss on his lips, she left.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Sitting down in the big, luxurious bathtub, Christine sighed as she tilted her head backwards and closed her eyes. The hot water caressed her body and caused her throbbing, aching skin to relax. Now, Christine could feel every muscle in her body screaming with pain and exhaustion. The events of the day before had so occupied her that she hadn't noticed the extreme fatigue she was suffering.

What a day it had been! In those mere twenty-four hours that had just passed, Christine had experienced joy, pain, fear, hope, and despair. She had lived her ultimate dream, and ultimate nightmare. Those mere twenty-four hours had taken her to the heights of joy, and the depths of torment.

After taking a long, good, refreshing bath, Christine walked out to her room.

Wearing her long silk robe, she collapsed on the big, soft bed and buried her head in its pillows. She wanted to go back to Raoul's side, but she was so tired that she couldn't help but give in to sleep. And yet the relaxation she sought never really came as she was awakened only minutes later by a nightmare.

Christine dragged herself out of bed and got dressed. She brushed her hair and applied make up to her tired eyes, blush to her pale cheeks, and lipstick to her, now, chapped lips. She wanted to look beautiful for Raoul.

Walking up again to the door of the De Chagny estate, Christine muttered, "Here it goes," as she prepared herself for the De Chagny's infamous welcome.

Yet nothing in the world could have prepared her for what was coming.

Christine was led inside by the maid. As she entered the room where Raoul lay, she could feel that there was something very wrong; she could feel that something terrible had taken place and her heart missed a beat.

Raoul was silently staring at the ceiling. She sat next to him on the bed.

"Raoul, darling, I'm here now," she said softly.

Raoul continued staring at the ceiling, a look of bitterness glowing in his eyes and he sharply replied, "Christine, I want you to leave and never come back."

Christine's eyes opened wide in shock. Her lips trembled, and for a few moments she couldn't bring herself to say anything.

Raoul turned around and looked at her coldly, and said again, "Did you not hear what I just said!" His tone was now filled with anger.

Christine replied softly as tears streamed down her eyes, "If you could just tell me what happened? At least I deserve to know that much!"

Raoul did not reply. He turned back to staring at the ceiling.

"Just leave," he ordered.

Christine wanted to argue but she just couldn't. Raoul's words had left her in such utter shock that she couldn't even speak.

And so it was, Christine Daae rose up and slowly but calmly walked out the door, leaving Raoul once and for all.

She stood outside the De Chagny estate for a few moments, as she noticed that her tears had dried and there were no more tears coming out. That shocked her, more than the fact that Raoul had just let her go. Christine had expected to shed many more tears for him, but nothing came out, not a single tear.

x-x-x-x-x-x

A month passed by and Christine still couldn't get through to Raoul; she wasn't even allowed to see him. The thing that hurt her most was that she didn't even know why. Raoul had let her go for no reason, or so she thought at the time. Yet Christine wasn't as upset as she had expected to be. As a matter of fact, she felt a kind of relief. She couldn't understand those feelings, or grasp their deep meaning; if anything they left her confused.

Today, Christine had made up her mind. Her bags were packed and her suit cases were on the floor. Christine had decided that she wasn't going to try anymore. She wasn't going to step on her dignity anymore by staying in Raoul's house; it was over. It was time to give up on Raoul, just as he had given up on her. She had fought for him out of a sense of duty and because she cared for him.

Today, Christine decided that she wasn't going to fight for her marriage anymore or step on her pride. She wasn't going to deny her heart's true feelings anymore, either.

Christine Daae had finally realized that her heart belonged to Erik. It had been his all along. She had been so stubborn that she had convinced herself otherwise for a long, long time. Her love for Raoul was nothing compared to her love for Erik, and the thought of that frightened her to the core.

She was deeply and madly in love with a ghost.

As much as she hated going back to L'Opera Populair because of the many painful memories, Christine knew she had nowhere else to go. She also knew that in her heart of hearts, she so longed to return.

_Change,_ Christine thought about change as the carriage carried her away, back to her old life, back to the music. How change seems to come unexpected, and uninvited, and yet when it comes, it changes everything.

So many drastic changes had taken place in her life over a very short period of time. And in return, those changes had changed her in many drastic ways. Christine never thought she would survive all that had happened, but she had, and now she felt stronger, much stronger.

And yet a chill of fear rolled up her spine. Silently, she wondered if she would ever survive this _change,_ as the carriage came to a stop in front of the Opera House. And Christine stood face to face with the Phantom, once again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Seven: (Looks Can be Deceiving)**

(The year: 1920)

Old and grey, Raoul put Christine's diary on the table for a moment and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. He remembered those horrible days when he had pushed Christine away from him, and for good reason. He remembered the despair he felt and the horror at the thought that Christine might stay with him out of pity.

What a terrible period of time that had been. Raoul was more than glad that it had passed away.

A painful truth had started to become clear to him as well and it broke his heart. He realized that Christine was never really his; she had always belonged to someone else.

Suddenly the sound of thunder caused Raoul to open his eyes and come back to the present. He looked out the window for an instant and as he lifted Christine's diary once again, he thought, _"The storm has just begun."_

(The year: 1872)

Christine was led to her old room, not the fancy room where she had met Erik for the first time but the humble room she had always stayed in before she became the star of the show, the room where Erik used to sing to her during the long, lonely nights.

Christine walked in with cautious steps and looked around for a minute, her heart beating like a drum. Here she was, back at the Opera House again.

Life had brought her twice to this place, and both times, Christine had arrived broken and lonely.

She sat on her old bed and sighed.

"How are you doing, my dear? We heard what happened to you. I'm really sorry," Madame Giry said compassionately as she entered the room.

"Isn't it amazing, Madame Giry. Life always seems to bring me back to this place," Christine sadly replied.

Madame Giry sat next to her on the bed and placed a comforting hand on Chrisitine's shoulder.

"Everything will be fine. Just wait and see!" Madame said encouragingly.

Christine looked at her and smiled faintly, knowing that Madame Giry was trying to make her feel better.

"I know," she replied

Silently, Christine wished she could believe her own words.

The truth was that Christine didn't know anything. She was terrified, as she felt so utterly abandoned and alone.

After a moment's thought, Christine asked out of the blue, "How did it happen?"

Madame Giry looked curiously at Christine, one brow raised in surprise.

"How did what happen?" she exclaimed.

Christine clarified.

"How did Erik die?" she whispered with a deep veil of grief lacing her voice.

"Well," Madame Giry began slowly and painfully. She took a deep breath and continued, "he died in the fire that he started two years ago. I didn't want to believe it at first, but when they told me a few days later that they had found his body completely burned, my heart sank. It's like he wanted to die, because I know that he could've escaped so easily!"

Now Madame Giry's voice was shaking and tears were streaming down her eyes.

Christine looked away from Madame Giry for a moment, wiping away her own tears. She turned back still clinging violently to hope.

"You said that they found his body a few days later. But, if it was completely burned, how could they know that it was him?" Christine firmly asked.

"They said the man was wearing a mask. That's how I knew that it must be him," Madame Giry sadly replied.

Tears were forming again in Christine's eyes as Madame Giry held her close and both women wept…they wept for Erik…they wept for the cruelty of life…they wept for all the injustice in the world…they wept for their loss…

Christine pulled away when she had calmed down. She wiped her tears and took a deep breath to calm her aching heart.

"Thank you so much for everything. I don't know what I would do without you," Christine said gratefully.

"It's nothing, my dear. We are family," Madame Giry replied with a smile on her face after she had wiped her own tears.

Suddenly, the atmosphere became joyous, as Meg's voice rang loud and clear with excitement.

"Christine! You're back with us! I'm so happy!"

Both girls hugged.

"I'm happy, too!" Christine replied.

Meg then pulled away and looked at Christine.

"I'm so sorry about your marriage. We all thought that you and Raoul made a great couple," Meg said as if offering her condolences.

"Looks can be deceiving," Christine replied knowingly.

After a minute of depressing silence, Meg exclaimed in an attempt to cheer Christine, "But on the bright side, things will go back to the way they were! Except this time, nothing will disturb us!" Meg said that referring to the Phantom.

"Yes, Meg, now everything can be just like it was before."

The truth was, things could never really go back to the way they were before and Christine knew that. Although things seemed to be the same again, they were different; they had changed forever.

Christine had changed forever.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Yes, looks can be deceiving; they had deceived Christine for a very long time. And now at last, she understood what those mere four words meant and what great effects they possessed.

Christine herself had almost wasted her life because she had believed a lie. She had convinced herself that her love for Raoul was greater; but, oh, how the days had proved her wrong.

How ironic it was, that not even in her wildest dreams, did Christine ever imagine that she and Raoul would end the way they did… that she would come back to the Opera house…that she would love Erik forever and ever more…that it was too late…that Erik was dead…

Yes, looks can be deceiving and Christine had learned that the hard way.

After a while of unpacking, Christine decided to take a break. She lay on her bed and stared for a moment at the cream colored walls of her room. She marveled at how unchanged her room was and yet it felt so different. Christine realized that nothing would be the same without her Angel of Music.

Nothing would feel right, ever again.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Monsieur Firmin sat in his office in the Opera house, reading the contracts and signing papers. As he sat there so absorbed in his work, he didn't notice the gloved hand which locked the door or the shadow that stood behind him.

Suddenly, there was a rope around his neck. Monsieur Firmin jumped up in shock and tried to break free. As he struggled to escape death's grip, a calm menacing voice told him from behind, "Did I not order that Mademoiselle Daae is to be given the good room?"

"Y-Yes," Monsieur Firmin managed to utter.

"Then why is she in the other room!" the voice demanded angrily as the rope got tighter around Monsieur Firmin's neck, to the extent that he couldn't talk or breathe from the pressure.

Just when Firmin thought that he was going to die, Erik's grip loosened. He moved away from Monsieur Firmin, who had his hand on his neck now and was gasping for air, while his other hand was placed on the desk in support of his shaking body.

An angry Erik stood waiting for an answer, his hand clutching the Punjab lasso as his piercing eyes caused Monsieur Firmin to tremble more in fear.

"I-it's just that I had a lot of things to do. I forgot to inform Madame Giry," Monsieur Firmin replied timidly between breaths.

Erik's look was still threatening.

"You know I would never do anything to upset you!" Firmin continued sheepishly.

Erik's blazing eyes seemed to calm a little.

"Listen. We have an agreement. I buy your operas and keep your secret. You, in return, don't harm me or anyone else in the opera. You protect my investments and I protect you," Firmin went on nervously, reminding Erik of their deal.

Erik was still silent. His silence caused Monsieur Firmin to remain on edge.

"I will call Madame Giry and inform her that Christine is to be taken to the diva's room," Firmin retorted.

"Good," Erik replied calmly. After a long pause, he threatened again, "You don't want to double cross me, Monsieur Firmin."

Monsieur Firmin nodded vehemently and frightfully in absolute agreement as Erik calmly continued, somewhat amused by Monsieur Firmin's obvious fear, "Now, if you'll excuse me."

Suddenly smoke came up as a trapdoor opened in the floor and Erik disappeared.

Monsieur Firmin breathed a sigh of relief.

Oh, how he wished he could inform the authorities about Erik but he couldn't. He knew for one that they wouldn't believe him in the first place, especially after a body had been found. Monsieur Firmin didn't even want to think about who that poor dead man might have been. Secondly, even if they did believe him, Erik was an escape artist and a very smart man; he would never be caught. Thirdly and most importantly, Monsieur Firmin valued his life very much and he knew that Erik would kill him without a thought, if he dared betray him.

Erik was very smart indeed; he had even let Madame Giry believe that he was dead because he knew that the authorities would ask her, more than the others, about him. Everyone expected Madame Giry to know the truth, so if she believed that he was dead, many people would too. By letting Madame Giry believe that he was dead, he was also protecting her, because if he let her in on his little secret, the police would consider her his accomplice.

Not to mention that Erik had planted fake evidence to support the theory that he was dead. The body the authorities had found completely burned was not Erik's; it was Pianji's.

Pianji had been wearing a mask for the performance that night as well. But in all the chaos that had taken place minutes later, at the time no one seemed to notice or pay attention to that insignificant but vital piece of information.

Now back inside the darkness of his lair, sitting by that old piano playing his heart out, Erik thought about Christine.

Fate had brought her back to him once again, when he thought he had lost her forever. Now a spark of hope glowed in his eyes. His inspiration had come back. Life started to breathe inside his soul and the light started to shine inside the lonely, agonizing, cold darkness of his being.

"_How ironic,"_ Erik thought as he continued playing the piano, eyes closed and soul soaring. _"For the first time in my life, I feel so alive and yet I am dead in the sight of_ _the world."_

Erik had finally become what he had wanted to be all his life, a ghost, safe from all the cruelties of the cold, harsh world of the living. But now that he had become a ghost in the eyes of all, Christine had returned breathing new life into him.

And for the first time in his life, Erik didn't know what to do.

"_Is it possible that Christine might care for me?" _

Erik didn't even want to think about it. But by the looks of it, it seemed like it was all a cruel game of fate.

Erik was about to learn that looks can be deceiving, and that the ultimate truth lay behind the mask.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine had just finished unpacking when she heard a knock on the door. She replied, to find Madame Giry with two maids standing at her door.

"What's the matter? Is something wrong?" Christine asked.

"No, not at all," Madame Giry replied calmly. "We've come to tell you that you've been moved to another room."

"Oh!" Christine replied in surprise. "But, Madame Giry, I've already unpacked, and-"

"It's all right, my dear. That's why the maids are here. You don't have to do a thing," Madame interrupted.

Christine looked even more surprised at Madame Giry's words but she didn't argue as Madame Giry led her down the hall.

_"Maids serving me, as if I am the Prima Donna!" _Christine thought in disbelief.

Her look of disbelief turned into a look of fear as she stood before the door of the room.

"Oh, no! … Not this room!" Christine gasped.

Madame Giry looked knowingly at Christine for a moment as she unlocked the door.

"Well, my dear, it was Monsieur Firmin's order. He owns this place, you know," Madame calmly retorted.

Christine slowly nodded as a sigh escaped her lips.

"But why this room? He knows what memories it holds," Christine asked quietly.

Madame Giry did not answer. She herself did not know why Monsieur Firmin would give Christine this room, out of all the other rooms. Madame pushed the door wide open and Christine walked in with slow, cautious steps, her heart beating like a drum. Once again, she was helplessly standing inside the den of memories. And for a few moments, she couldn't breathe.

"The maids will get your things and will unpack them for you. Just relax, enjoy the evening. Tomorrow, you will start practice again," Madame said, bringing Christine out of her reverie.

Christine nodded. Madame Giry turned to exit the room. Before she closed the door, she looked back at Christine who was still standing in deathly silence inside the room.

"You know, you're the star of the show now," Madame said casually.

"What!" Christine exclaimed, but before she had a chance to ask about it, Madame Giry had closed the door and left.

"_Me! The star of the show_ _again!" _Christine thought in shock as she sat on her bed.

She couldn't help but smile, as she thought amusedly about Carlotta. "_Oh, she will definitely_ _not like this."_

And yet, inside her shock and joy at becoming the Prima Donna, she still couldn't understand why Monsieur Firmin would willingly give her the lead when he had never done that before. Christine decided not to waste any more time thinking about it, for whatever it was that caused Monsieur Firmin to do this, Christine was grateful for it.

How ironic it was, that only a few days ago, Christine had found herself hating the unknown, and now she found herself being grateful for it.

How ironic it was, that the unknown seemed to destroy her life, only to save it again.

Christine was about to learn that looks can be deceiving in more ways than one.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Eight: (Dreams Reprise)**

"_Think of me  
Think of me fondly  
When we've said goodbye  
Remember me once in a while  
Please promise me you'll try…_

_Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned  
Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind_

_Recall those days, look back on all those times  
Think of the things, we'll never do  
There will never be a day, when I won't think of you"_

Christine stood on that huge stage wearing a beautiful pink dress and sang like an angel. That song which Christine had sung in the past without really understanding was now the ultimate expression of her life. In her heart Christine felt every word and mourned every sentence but she knew that it was time to say goodbye.

She had tried to fight for her marriage but she knew that she had to accept the fact that she didn't belong to Raoul. She had wanted to believe with all her might that Erik was still alive but she knew that she had to accept the fact that he was dead.

"_With this song it began,"_ Christine thought to herself, _"and with this song it shall_ _end."_

"_Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade  
they have their seasons so do we  
But please promise me that sometimes  
you will think of me!"_

The crowd stood up to cheer as she curtsied politely, tears streaming freely down her face.

As she raised her head up, wiping away her tears and looking at the audience who were still clapping and shouting their highest praises, her sight fell on box five, the box that was always kept empty for Erik. As she looked at it for a few moments, her heart missed a beat. She could vaguely see a face with a white mask staring back at her.

Christine closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again to make sure that she wasn't dreaming, the face was gone. There was nothing there… dreams are dreams, nothing but fantasies.

"_It was just a figment of your imagination, just a figment of your imagination!" _Christine whispered frantically to herself as she tried to calm the drum of her beating heart.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine sighed a sigh of relief as she entered her room and sat on the chair by her vanity table. She was back to the quiet of her room at last, away from the chaos that existed just a few feet away from the door.

Carlotta barged in, angry and hysterical as usual, wearing a big fancy hat and a very big dress. Christine braced herself for Carlotta's tantrum.

"You! You Little-a Toad. You will-a not-a steal-a my act-a!" Carlotta yelled with her high- pitched, nasally voice, like a spoiled child who had not gotten her way.

Monsieur Firmin barged in after Carlotta and led her outside while she was still screaming and making a complete fool of herself. Then he walked back into Christine's room.

"I'm sorry for that. It's just that - you know how Carlotta is," Monsieur Firmin said apologetically.

"Don't worry about it," Christine replied.

A few moments later, Madame Giry entered the room with Monsieur Andre who was excited.

"You were magnificent tonight, Mademoiselle Daae! You truly outdid yourself!" Monsieur Firmin said fervently.

Christine smiled. Monsieur Andre turned to Monsieur Firmin and continued, "Letting Miss Daae be the lead was the most genius step you have ever taken! I was skeptical at the beginning, but-"

He turned around to Christine and continued, now directed to her, "You are truly and amazingly a talented young lady. We are proud to have you with us!"

"Enough praise already. Let the girl relax, Monsieur Andre," Firmin interrupted as he led Andre outside and left with him.

Now, Madame Giry and Christine were the only ones left in the room.

"You did very well, my dear."

Christine smiled and sighed at the same time, as if she were glad it was over.

"I will leave you alone now. I know you are tired," Madame continued.

Christine nodded and Madame Giry closed the door.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Yes, it was time to say goodbye.

Goodbye, that simple word that breaks the heart and tears the soul. Goodbye, that simple word that forever changes one's life. Goodbye, that word that Christine so dreaded had now become her only remedy.

As Christine lay in bed that night, she realized that it was only through the pain of goodbye that she could attain the relief of closure.

Christine rose from her bed and walked up to the window. She looked outside at the stillness of the night and softly sang into the infinite darkness of the starry skies, _"Help me say goodbye."_

Her voice rang in the corners of that silent universe. That phrase that she sang spoke more than a thousand words. Christine continued to stare at the beautiful night skies. The silence wrapped her in its cloak.

"Angel of Music, I know that you're out there somewhere, watching over me like you always have," Christine whispered with a longing smile. She continued with a strained voice, "Someday, we will meet again, someday. But, for now, I have to say goodbye, because if I don't, I won't be able to go on with my life. I hope you can understand."

The night wind brushed against her face and caused her soft curls to sway as tears rolled down her pale cheeks.

She looked down for a moment at her trembling hands and then raised her head back up again toward the starry skies.

"Until we meet again, until then," she said with a trembling voice.

Her tears now flooded her eyes and cheeks as they slid into the oblivion of the night.

"_This will be the last night I mourn the past, the last night…dreams don't come true," _Christine thought to herself with determination, not caring how broken her heart was.

With the blink of an eye, Christine's life spiraled into complete chaos all over again, as her room suddenly lit up with candles and she heard an enchanting voice sing.

"_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation.  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination.  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses"_

In utter shock, Christine abrubtly turned around.

Standing in the dim light of the candles that seemed to appear out of nowhere in her room, she could see a tall figure wearing a white mask staring at her.

Christine's heart started beating like a drum and she couldn't breath. She whispered to herself, _"You're just dreaming. It's just a dream."_

How could she deny his presence and that otherworldly beautiful voice of his. Her angel was still singing.

"_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you  
Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you  
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind,  
in this darkness that you know you cannot fight  
the darkness of the music of the night."_

Christine closed her eyes for a few moments and tried to calm down as Erik approached her.

When she opened her eyes again to make sure she wasn't dreaming, she gasped. To her shock, Erik was standing right before her looking down at her with his gorgeous, piercing eyes as his hand gently caressed her cheek. He continued.

"_You alone can make my song take flight  
Help me make the music of the night"_

Then there was silence, deafening silence. And his eyes continued to stare.

It was as if he was seeing right through her soul. Although Christine wanted to turn away from his eyes, those eyes that both threaten and adore, she couldn't.

His voice had put her under a spell and his eyes held her captive.

Erik had been watching her all the while. He had heard every word she had said and saw the tears she was shedding for him. Seeing her mourn his death like that was so unexpected.

Erik didn't say a single word; he only looked at her for a few moments while his hands lingered inside the rich curls of her hair. Christine was in such shock that she couldn't bring herself to speak.

"They told me you were dead!" she finally managed to whisper.

Erik gently put his hand on her lips, silencing her.

Christine waited for an explanation but Erik didn't say anything. He continued looking at her, studying every detail of her face as his fingers traced an invisible line down her neck.

Erik then held her hand, gazing at it while slowly tracing the lines of her palm with his finger.

Christine watched for a moment as their hands touched and intertwined. Then she raised her eyes back up to Erik, who was still looking down at her palm.

Christine's other hand instinctively went up to Erik's face. She softly touched his bare cheek. Erik flinched away for a moment, the union of their hands breaking. He abruptly looked back into her eyes, a fierce emotion blossoming in his eyes. Christine could see it.

Erik gazed at her for a few moments, reading her eyes and studying her features. As Erik stared, Christine found herself utterly and helplessly lost inside the oceans of his breathtakingly beautiful eyes.

He then slowly took her hand in his once again and placed it back on the left side of his face. As Christine softly touched his face again, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Erik opened his eyes a few moments later and looked at her, his lips coming closer to hers as her lips parted in anxious waiting.

Now, his hand was caressing her cheek again.

As their lips got closer, Christine whispered passionately, "I don't care if this is a dream. I just want to be with you."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Yes, dreams are wonderful, dreams are beautiful, but in the end dreams will always remain just what they are, nothing but dreams.

And yet, sometimes, when we least expect it, dreams come true.

Their lips locked with such passion and fire.

They kissed for what seemed like an eternity, devouring each other with every touch and every sigh.

Erik and Christine were in their own paradise, a place where Christine was not a married woman, and Erik was not a wanted murderer, a place where anything was possible.

Yes, dreams are wonderful… dreams are beautiful…

But what happens after the dream is over?


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Nine: (Reality)**

Erik and Christine kissed for what seemed like an eternity - and a little bit more than that.

Suddenly paradise was shattered to pieces when a knock on the door startled both Erik and Christine.

"Christine, are you all right?" a soft, concerned voice asked.

"It's Meg!" Christine exclaimed with a whisper.

She replied nervously, her voice rising with her nervousness, "Yes, yes, everything is perfect!"

Christine frantically started closing her unbuttoned nightgown.

Meg inquired again with a hint of worry in her voice. "Are you sure? Because I thought I heard noises!"

Christine bit her lip in embarrassment.

"Oh, it must have come from another room!" Christine replied frantically while trying to pull on her white robe as quickly as possible.

When Christine was decent, she looked up and to her shock, Erik was gone and there were no more candles. Christine opened the light in her room and looked around. In all the rush, she hadn't noticed Erik leaving but she didn't have time to think now.

She just rushed to the door and opened it to find a waiting Meg standing at the door with a frown on her face.

"Why did it take you so long to open?" Meg asked curiously.

Christine sighed and replied nervously, a deep red blush evident on her cheeks, "It's just that I was sleeping and when you knocked, you kind of startled me… I was looking for my slippers!"

Christine was babbling excuses but she quickly realized it and calmed herself down.

"Would you like to come in?" Christine asked.

Meg's expression was now more relaxed.

"No, no, it's fine. I just came to tell you that I thought you were wonderful tonight, since I forgot to tell you earlier. I'm sorry if I woke you; it's just that I couldn't sleep."

Meg bit her lip and looked down at the floor.

Christine smiled as she stated, "Would you like to talk about it? Don't worry. You're not bothering me."

Meg smiled and nodded. Christine closed the door and they both sat on the bed.

Looking down at her hands that were resting in her lap for a moment, Meg took a deep breath as she looked back at her friend and started hesitantly.

"Well, there is this fellow that I like… I like a lot actually. Who am I kidding, I love him," Meg exclaimed shyly and then continued. "I-I've been seeing him in secret because if my mother knew, she would kill me!"

Christine chuckled as Meg continued worriedly, "But you see, he doesn't seem to be interested in marriage. It's been two months now and he hasn't even made an attempt to talk to my mother or to propose. I'm scared that he just wants to take advantage of me."

Christine looked at her with concern.

"But you didn't cross the line with him, did you?" Christine asked cautiously

"No!" Meg exclaimed. "Of course not!"

She bit her lip as she slowly went on to confess, "Although he has been making inappropriate advances toward me lately."

Christine looked down at the floor for a few moments as she thought about how she was just about to cross the line with Erik. If what had happened was real in the first place!

"Christine, are you all right?"

Meg's voice cut through Christine's train of thought. She smiled and looked back at Meg in return.

"Thank you so much for coming tonight, Meg!" Christine said gratefully as she held her friend's hands in hers.

"My pleasure!" Meg laughed as she replied.

After a moment of silence, Meg hesitantly continued, "So, what do you think I should do?"

Christine cleared her throat.

"Well, first of all, do I know this man?" Christine questioned.

Meg nodded.

"But please, don't tell anyone! He's the new patron," Meg said slowly.

"Monsieur Pierre Richard!" Christine exclaimed, interrupting Meg's sentence.

Meg put her hand on Christine's mouth and replied frantically, "Shhhh!"

"I'm sorry," Christine said calmly, embarrassed by her childish outburst.

Just like that, Christine found herself thinking about Raoul. She remembered how they used to sneak around secretly because she was afraid of Erik at the time. Tears started rolling from her eyes.

Seeing her friend's sudden change of mood, Meg exclaimed, "What's wrong?"

Just a few minutes ago they were both laughing together, and now this.

"I-it's nothing. I just remembered Raoul," Christine confessed.

Meg leaned in and gave Christine a big hug.

"I'm sure that things will work out between you and Raoul in the end," Meg said reassuringly.

Christine pulled away from her friend's embrace.

"No, they won't. There are too many things that you don't know about me, Meg. Raoul and I don't belong to each other," Christine replied knowingly.

Meg just stared at Christine, concern and surprise filling her eyes. She refused to give up, as she pressed on trying to console her friend. "There is always hope."

Christine shook her head, a firm "No" as she smiled, wiping away her tears.

"I'm so sorry, Meg. We drifted away from the main subject again. So. You were telling me that Monsieur Richard is making inappropriate advances toward you. Well, I think, if that is the case, then you should leave him," Christine said with a steady voice.

After a moment's thought, Christine looked Meg in the eyes.

"Leave him before it's too late and you find out that you have been deceived by your own heart!" Christine exclaimed with urgency and confidence.

A sigh escaped her lips.

"Trust me, the pain will drive you crazy," Christine continued painfully, her voice wavering with emotion.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Yes, Christine had been deceived by her own heart and she didn't wish that upon anyone else because she knew how painful it could be. If she had only realized her love for Erik sooner, her heart wouldn't be so broken and her soul wouldn't be so tired and even the Opera House wouldn't have burned down.

As she lay in bed that night, Christine contemplated the possibility that she might be loosing her mind.

"_I drove you crazy once and now you're driving me crazy," _Christine thought in grief and guilt. Tears silently rolled down her cheeks, staining her pillow and her soul with their wounds as she realized in horror, _"That's your revenge."_

x-x-x-x-x-x

The morning light filled Christine's room as she opened her eyes to greet the morning. The morning gave her a breath of new hope. What a long night it had been and Christine was glad that it was over. Last night's conversation with Meg had given her new strength and determination to finish what she had started. It was time to put the past behind her and Christine was going to do that, no matter what the cost.

She slowly rose from bed, wore her beautiful white robe and walked toward her vanity table. There she sat down and wrote a letter to Raoul. In it, Christine asked for a divorce. She didn't care for the scandal anymore. She didn't care what people thought or said; she just wanted to end it completely and to get on with her life.

Christine was fed up with both men; one had pushed her away so abruptly and without any explanation and the other was torturing her ruthlessly. Christine had had enough of it all. It was over in her heart. All she felt was anger toward both men for the terrible way they had treated her.

Christine Daae was done with anything that had to do with men or falling in love. Erik and Raoul were not allowed to ruin her life anymore. No man would ruin her life anymore.

Christine sealed the letter and slowly got up to get dressed and to prepare herself for a long day of rehearsal. As she was finishing the final touches of her make up, there was a knock on the door. Christine opened to find Meg standing before her, dressed in her ballerina outfit and ready.

"Shall we go to rehearsal?" Meg asked with a smile on her face.

Christine nodded and replied, "Yes, we shall."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Monsieur Firmin entered the stage, holding what seemed to be a new Opera in his hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please," his voice rang throughout the noisy crowd of the performers.

Suddenly, the room became quiet and everyone looked at Monsieur Firmin, who went on to say, "There will be a change in the program. You will perform this new Opera instead of the one you were just rehearsing."

Soft hisses and whispers of curiosity filled the room as Carlotta told her assistant, "See. I-a told-a you-a that-a something strange-a is going on-a."

Christine was listening intently to Carlotta's conversation as Carlotta went on to say to her assistant, "Not-a to mention that-a no one-a knows-a who-a this-a mysterious composer-a is-a!"

Christine's heart missed a beat as she thought to herself, _"Could it be Erik? No, it is impossible!"_

"And why the sudden change of heart, Monsieur Firmin?" Monsieur Reyer inquired with great irritation.

"Well, because I reviewed both Operas and I found this one to be much better," Monsieur Firmin replied.

But under his breath, Firmin cursed Erik for putting him in such an awkward situation.

The truth was that it was Erik's order. He had just composed that Opera and he wanted it to be performed instead. And Monsieur Firmin had obeyed, for what else could he do.

"Is this absolutely necessary, Monsieur Firmin?" Monsieur Andre interrupted nervously.

Monsieur Firmin mumbled under his breath _"You have no idea."_ Then he raised his voice in reply as he said confidently, "Yes, it is."

Monsieur Andre gave in without any argument since he trusted Firmin's judgment.

Turning his attention from Monsieurs Andre and Reyer to Christine, Monsieur Firmin went on to say, "Christine will also be the lead. She is our star now."

"What!" Carlotta yelled with her loud nasally voice. "And what-a about-a me and my doggy!"

"You're still our star, too. Now, we have two stars," Monsieur Firmin replied in exasperation, trying to contain the damages.

Carlotta shook her head in anger. She would have left joyfully at that moment but because she knew no other theater would take her, she bit her lip and accepted her fate. Carlotta knew that Christine was the real star now but what could she do.

Monsieur Firmin handed the score to Monsieur Reyer, who opened it and studied it for a few moments and replied in defeat, "Alright then, let's start with this new Opera. It's entitled 'A Second Chance.'"

Christine's heart missed a beat again as she looked around the stage for a moment.

Oh, how that title rang inside her being, _"A Second Chance"_ when Christine had finally run out of chances to give, when she had decided that the past was behind her. What kind of cruel game was fate playing now?

The orchestra started playing the score, in practice, as magical tunes filled the atmosphere. At that moment Christine realized that there was only one composer who could compose such enchanting, powerful music; but how could it be?

Even Madame Giry had an uneasy feeling about it all. As she looked around for a moment, she suddenly caught a glimpse of a shadow. A man was standing behind one of the curtains and her eyes grew wide in shock as her heart trembled. The shadow was gone in an instant and so was Madame Giry's focus.

_Reality, what is reality? What makes reality real?_

Those questions haunted Christine's mind all the while as they practiced that day. Christine felt Erik's presence around her as every word she sang seemed to be a message from him to her.

Every kiss and every touch was still burning on her skin. She had seen him; she had heard him; and she had felt him. How could it all be nothing but a mere illusion, when it felt so real and so true!

_Reality, what is reality? What makes reality real?_

Those questions haunted Madame Giry's mind as she began to put the pieces of the puzzle together. There had been too many incidents which she had ignored. After all she had done for him, Erik couldn't possibly allow her to mourn his death if he were still alive. She just couldn't believe that. And yet, in that instant, Madame Giry didn't know what to think as all her doubts about Erik's death were awakened all over again.

For an instant, Christine's timid doe eyes met Madame's blue stern ones. How was either woman to know that they were thinking about the same thing.

_Reality, what is reality? What makes reality real?_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Ten: (Haunted)**

"_I was being tormented ruthlessly, by the phantom of the Opera, by the memories, and by my guilt. And in a horrific moment, I realized that Erik would never forgive me for betraying him, his spirit would torment me until the day I die. And I knew that there was no escape. The past would always live in my heart. My guilt would always burn inside my tired being. And the phantom, my angel, the man I betrayed, would always haunt my soul, never allowing me a moment of peace." _

Christine's diary

x-x-x-x-x-x

After a long, tiring day of rehearsal and practice, Christine retreated to her room.

She collapsed on the chair by her vanity table, and inhaled deeply, a reflection in the mirror caught her attention. Christine gasped in shock, and slowly rose up from the chair. And as she turned around, every muscle in her body seemed to tense and ache.

She slowly walked towards her bed, towards what was left on it. And with one trembling hand Christine raised, the beautiful red rose, that was elegantly tied by a black satin ribbon, up towards her, as she studied every breathtaking feature of its design.

Tears filled her eyes, as she brought the rose close to her face, and whispered with a deep longing: _"angel of music… my angel". _

And with that, she inhaled deeply, breathing the wonderful scent of that haunted rose, as if she were taking in the breath of life, itself.

But after a moment of complete surrender, Christine awoke up from her daze. And in a desperate attempt to save her sanity, she threw the rose away from her. It fell on the ground.

"I am not going to allow you to drive me crazy!" Christine said loudly, pleading with him

Now her breath was heavy, and her eyes were closed, as she sat on the bed.

"You're dead to the world and you're dead to me as well!" Christine continued with an anguished voice, "That's reality"

"I love you" his voice replied with an enchanting whisper, a whisper that was so hauntingly beautiful and captivating, that it left Christine speechless, and breathless for a few moments.

Christine closed her eyes, as tears trickled down her cheeks.

"No, you don't love me. Please go away, leave me in peace" She pleaded.

"_Now it's official, I've gone mad" _Christine thought in anguish.

Erik's reflection appeared in the mirror, he was wearing his Don Juan outfit, and the same mask, that she had ripped off his face, once before, as one of his black gloved hands stretched out towards her, and he sang, with his hauntingly beautiful voice: _"Christine I love you"._

But this time, his voice was not shaky or broken, like it had been the first time he had sang those words to her, in his lair, after she had betrayed him. Now, it was angelic, and so beautiful.

Christine opened her eyes abruptly, and before her in the mirror, Christine saw her angel…a ghost…a reflection…a fantasy…

Christine's beating heart, seemed to suddenly stop, she was numb, she could not move, speak, or think. In those haunting moments, all she could do was stare at the mirror, and the reflection of the man… of the spirit in it.

And as if in a trance, Christine rose up from the bed in shock, and stood there just utterly spell bound, her eyes wide open, filled with tears. At that moment Christine's entire being ached beyond words, as a million emotions rushed to her heart and head, fear, love, passion, regret, pain, but above all guilt, deep, torturous guilt.

"I'm so sorry." Christine whispered.

Her voice broken with tears and anguish, as she continued: "I never meant to hurt you. I-I"

But she couldn't speak anymore The pain was too much. The tears blinded her now, and fell like silent rain down her cheeks.

Christine buried her face in her hands, and kept whispering between sobs: "I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry"

"I'm so sorry as well" his voice whispered back.

Christine raised her head abruptly, as she wiped away her tears, and looked back up at the mirror once again. But he was gone, and his voice was no more.

Christine cried out desperately: "angel of music!"

She rushed towards the mirror, and desperately tried to pry it open, in an attempt to get to him, but to no avail.

"Please don't leave me" She whispered, giving up the fight to open the mirror.

Nothing was visible in the mirror but her image.

And Christine hated what she saw.

Her hand traced her own reflection, as she sang softly, her beautiful voice, trembling and wavering:

"_No thoughts within her head, but thoughts of joy  
No dreams within her heart, but dreams of love"_

And her voice trailed off into oblivion.

In those moments, Christine realized that the girl she used to be, existed no more. Now her reflection was that of another woman, a woman who was filled with guilt, grief, and pain.

She was but a shadow of the girl she used to be, an echo.

And as her eyes met their reflection, Christine whispered: "now I'm a ghost as well"

x-x-x-x

_Christine was standing on the edge of a deep precipice, screaming at the top of her lungs for help, while both Raoul and Erik stood there, a few feet away from her calmly watching her start to fall._

_She was wearing her old ballerina outfit, but it was dirty and torn. Her hair was undone, and her face was pale. Raoul was wearing the outfit he had worn in masquerade and Erik was wearing his red death suit._

_Christine's hands were stretched out frantically, as she begged for help. But Raoul coldly turned away from her, and started walking away, ignoring her anguished pleas. Erik, on the other hand, stood there staring at her emotionless, his piercing eyes burning holes in her skin. He slowly started walking towards her. He stretched out his gloved hand. She started to breathe easier, a faint smile of relief appeared on her face, as he took her hand in his, but his eyes remained expressionless. He started to pull her out of the fall._

_But suddenly, just as she had started to have hope, and feel safe, he let go of her hand, and she let out a scream of horror, as she went on to fall back down into the deep precipice. His eyes stared down at her in amusement. _

Christine sat up straight in bed, awake, breathing heavily, and drowned in sweat. She looked around for a moment, and then fell back down on the bed. And with a shaking hand, she started wiping away the beads of sweat from her forehead, while she whispered between breathes: "it was just a nightmare, it was just a nightmare".

She was as white as death.

"_Even in my dreams, you haunt me" _She thought desperately

Christine felt so utterly frustrated, now she was afraid to sleep as well, for even in sleep, there seemed to be no rest. And Christine cried out softly into the darkness of the night: "angel of music, I need you so. Please forgive me"

She closed her eyes, and put her trembling hands on her sweaty face, and sobbed into the silence.

But just when her universe couldn't have gotten any darker or drearier, a voice filled her room with its beauty. It filled her aching being with peace, and her mind with enchantment. And suddenly Christine was not in hell anymore. That pure, mesmerizing, angelic voice seemed to carry her on its wings, back to heaven.

Christine knew that voice all too well, but at that moment she didn't care from where it came, or if it was real, or just a figment of her imagination. All she knew was that, that voice was haunting her with its beauty now, it was healing her. She just wanted to get lost inside its waves.

Her angel of music was soothing her, calming her, taking away her fears, as he sang her back to peaceful slumber. And this time, she slept on the wings of heaven, inside the oceans of his voice, on the winds of his presence.

And in that paradise, nightmares were no more.

x-x-x-x

"_Yes, I was haunted by his heavenly voice, by his magical presence, and by my longing to see him again, if only for a moment. I needed so desperately to know that he had forgiven me, just like I had forgiven him. That night he had told me that he was sorry as well, and I knew that he meant it. I just wanted my angel of music back, but instead I found myself lost in despair, dieing of loneliness. And most importantly, I found myself haunted by the memories, by the echoes of the past, a past that I so longed to forget, but could never escape._

_And yet, in the end, he had saved me again, his voice raised me to heights of peace and joy, I never knew existed. That night I literally felt as if I was in paradise, and I slept like I had never slept before, as a little hope sparkled in my heart, that maybe just maybe he had forgiven me. And yet another realization struck me, now he was haunting me, just like I had haunted his heart, soul, and mind, once upon a time. _

_It's funny how the wheel of life seems to turn, isn't it? What goes around comes around, and it was my turn to be haunted now"_

Christine's diary


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Eleven: (Masquerade)**

Erik was in control once again, he knew he had Christine in his grasp, and now nothing would stand in his way. And although there were some obstacles, Erik knew that all he needed was a little patience, and those obstacles would be dissolved.

For the first time in his life, Erik felt hope, real hope; hope, that maybe he wasn't destined to live all his life in solitude; hope, that maybe there is redemption, even for someone like him; hope, that maybe the night and the day do mix, and when they do they create the horizon.

x-x-x-x-x-x

_Masquerade  
Paper faces on parade  
Masquerade  
Hide your face so the world will never find you  
Masquerade  
Every face a different shade  
Masquerade  
Look around, there's another mask behind you_.

Today was a day of celebration, the Opera Populair was having its annual masquerade party, and everyone was preoccupied getting ready. Including Christine, who was happy that she had at last gotten the signed divorce papers from Raoul.

She was free at last and she didn't want to ruin her happiness.

All they needed was her signature, and she signed the papers swiftly. A copy was sent to Raoul, and a copy was left with her. She breathed deeply in relief. Now it was official no more Countess De Chagny.

She had her costume ready. She was wearing a long white silk dress, outlining her figure, low cut at the chest but not indecent, sleeves short and falling elegantly on her upper arms, shoulders bare. She was wearing a crown of white roses on her hair, that was left loose, and two big white feathery wings hung on the back of her dress, spreading out, as if she was going to fly.

Her white mask was of the same cloth as her wings, not to forget the long beautiful silk white gloves. Christine was wearing white from top to bottom; her disguise was that of an angel.

She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled in approval.

The last time she was in a masquerade she had worn a princess outfit, because she had been Raoul's princess. But now she wore an angel outfit, because she always had been Erik's angel.

During his life, she had never done the things that she should have done for him. She had not even been a friend to him, and she had betrayed him in the end. Yes, she had betrayed her angel after everything beautiful he had brought into her life, after all the things he had given her.

Now maybe in his death she could give him a little something back. Maybe then his spirit would stop torturing her, and this guilt she felt eating at her soul would cease.

And with slow steps, Christine walked down to the chapel, where she always used to go before. There she lit a candle for her father, and asked for his blessing. Then she looked up and spoke: "father, I've missed you so much, I'm so sorry, because I know that I have shamed you."

And with that her voice broke, as she continued slowly: "I can still remember, when you promised me that you would send me the angel of music, to guard and guide me. I'm so sorry that I ever doubted your words."

She took a deep breath, as she wiped away her tears, and continued with a more composed voice now: "The truth is, you did send me the angel of music, but I was too blind to see past his face. I let the mask scare me away. I didn't follow my heart. I did what I thought was right. But now I realize how wrong I was."

And with a soft whisper, she went on: "I could've saved him, just like he had saved me so many times, from my loneliness and despair. But instead, I repaid his kindness towards me, by betraying him. And now I realize that I love him, but it's too late."

x-x-x-x-x-x

The ball room was gorgeous, absolutely magnificent; Christine had to admit to herself that they had done a great job restoring it.

She walked among the people, all dressed up in masks and costumes, some she thought were extremely funny, and some costumes were beautiful. Most of them were dancing, but she stood in the corner just observing, this time she had no dance partner, or fiancée. She was alone, with only the memories.

She smiled as she saw the girls so happy swaying in the arms of their lovers, so much hope and so many dreams sparkled in their eyes. Christine sighed. She was once like them, thinking she would have the happiness of the world in Raoul's arms. But in time, all the masks were gone, and the truth was revealed.

"Christine, why aren't you dancing?"

Christine turned around to see Meg, standing there in an expensive, uniquely beautiful two piece Indian outfit, it was dark blue, similar to a belly dancer's outfit, and Meg's mask was dark blue as well.

Christine smiled and asked playfully: "and who may you be?"

"I'm the Maharaja's daughter" Meg replied with an air of superiority.

Both girls chuckled.

Then Meg continued with a dreamy sigh: "it's a wonderful party isn't it?"

Christine nodded.

"You know, it seems we're the only ones with no partners" Christine stated.

Meg looked at her, and humorously exclaimed: "I know, the beautiful Maharaja's daughter, and the gorgeous heavenly angel are alone on such a night, it's a big shame!"

Both girls laughed again. But Meg's joyous voice, turned into deadly silence, as the new patron Monsieur Pierre Richard appeared with another woman. Their costume was that of the Emperors of Rome.

Meg was shocked, and Christine could see it in her eyes. The hurt of betrayal shone through Meg's beautiful hazel eyes.

"Meg are you alright?" Christine asked worriedly

Meg nodded. And after a moment of silent shock, she exclaimed angrily: "can you believe the nerve of that bastard! I haven't even broken up with him yet, and he walks in with another woman! I hate him!"

"It's alright Meg, he doesn't deserve you" Christine said, trying to calm her friend down.

Meg looked back at Christine.

"You just watch what I will do!" Meg exclaimed in rage.

Meg started walking swiftly towards them, adrenaline pumping into her veins. Christine tried to stop Meg, but she lost her in the crowd, and was left behind.

"Meg don't!" Christine helplessly called out, but it was too late.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik was preparing himself for the party. He put his mask on, as he smiled deviously, _"this will be a masquerade, no one will ever forget", _he thought.

Yes, this would be a masquerade, no one would ever forget.

_Why so silent, good Monsieurs?  
Did you think that I had left you for good?_

Erik had specifically ordered Monsieur Firmin, ever since the Opera house was restored, that there would be no parties of any kind, in his Opera house. Of course, Erik did not elaborate on the subject. But he had given out an order, and Monsieur Firmin had now disobeyed him, again.

The truth was, Monsieur Firmin had assumed that Erik would be more lenient, now that Christine was back. But little did he know how wrong he was.

If there was one thing Erik could not, and would not tolerate, it was disobedience. If Monsieur Firmin had asked his permission first, things might have been different.

And despite the fact that Erik had something very special planned for him and Christine that night, there was something he had to do first.

_A lesson has to be learned tonight._

No one ever disobeys the phantom of the Opera and gets away with it.

"_Today"_ Erik hissed: _"their worst nightmares will come true"_

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine was looking frantically for Meg, but Meg and the patron seemed to have vanished into thin air. And Christine was starting to get worried.

The party seemed to be going really well. Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre were very pleased. Carlotta was having a great time, flirting with every rich bachelor around. Music was playing as some where dancing, and some where just drinking and chatting.

But suddenly, and in the middle of it all, when they thought nothing could disturb their perfect gathering, a majestic voice rang out in that huge room, as it echoed in its every corner. It seemed to be coming from every direction.

"Did I not order that no parties, of any kind, be held in my Opera house!" A menacing, powerful voice commanded.

The music stopped abruptly, and silence fell upon that crowd, like an avalanche. Everyone was looking around in utter horror, to find the source of the voice. Christine's heart was about to jump out of her chest, and her eyes looked around in fear and shock. She knew that voice all too well.

She loved and feared that voice.

Suddenly everyone's sight fell on the entrance of the ball room, where smoke seemed to be coming out of the floor. A figure dressed in red, started to become more visible to them, as the thick smoke started to decrease.

The phantom stood there, inside the smoke, looking around in amusement, at the frightened crowd for a moment.

"Now, you will know, what it really means, to be visited by red death. You shall see my wrath" Erik hissed threateningly.

As soon as the phantom had finished his sentence, the smoke abruptly increased, and the phantom seemed to disappear inside of it.

Terrified hisses and whispers filled the room, in those intense moments. Monsieur Firmin realized that he had done a grave mistake.

And suddenly, and without any warning, a door in the ceiling seemed to open, and the body of the patron Monsieur Richard, came tumbling down from the roof. Every one in the crowd gasped in horror, and moved away from the body, including Christine, who thought she would faint at the sight.

The Patron, was not killed in the phantom's usual manner, instead, he was deathly wounded by two sword stabs, one in his stomach, and one next to his chest. Not to mention, two big wounds were carved inside the perfect skin of his face, one on each cheek. He was covered in blood, as he hit the floor, making a faint sound, like that of a deeply wounded animal, as he fainted completely.

Then the door in the ceiling closed.

And before anyone had a chance to react to the horrific scene, small windows seemed to open in the walls breathing fire into that luxurious ball room. And it was in that moment that all hell broke loose.

Chaos broke out like a blizzard among that terrified crowd, as they all starting running towards the exit. Screams of horror filled the room. Christine found herself too frightened to move. She stood there frozen, completely consumed by the horror of it all, as she watched the room starting to get engulfed in flames. She saw the patron's men carry his bloody body outside.

Terror floated around her everywhere. And although she wanted to escape, she found herself unable to move.

Suddenly, she felt two strong arms, sweeping her off the ground. Everything started to become dark around her. And as Christine drifted into oblivion, she thought, she felt the sweet caress of the rain, on her face.

x-x-x-x-x-x

_Masquerade  
Paper faces on parade  
Masquerade  
Hide your face so the world will never find you  
Masquerade  
Every face a different shade  
Masquerade  
Look around, there's another mask behind you_.

_And what a Masquerade_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Twelve: (Past the Point of No Return)**

Christine suddenly opened her eyes, and sat up straight in horror, only to find herself inside a moving carriage, in the heart of the night.

She gasped in shock and fear, what in the world was going on. She was alone inside the carriage, she didn't know who the driver was, and she didn't know where she was going.

She leaned towards the window, and started calling frantically: "Monsieur, stop please! Where are we going?"

But there was no answer, as the carriage continued to move.

Christine finally realized that her pleas were falling on deaf ears, so she just lay back on her seat, and put a trembling hand on her heart.

"_Please be a nightmare. Please be a nightmare. I want to wake up!" _

Suddenly the carriage came to a halt.

Christine looked outside, to find that the carriage had stopped in front of a church. Someone wearing a cape, with a hood covering his face, opened the door for her. And one black gloved hand stretched out, taking her trembling white gloved hand in his.

And as she came out of the carriage, her eyes met the eyes of her abductor, or savior, after all he had saved her from the fire. Erik stood there before her in all his glory, his blazing beautiful eyes shining in the dark. Christine gasped in shock. She couldn't bring herself to speak.

"Come my love" his silky voice ordered, as he led her towards the church.

At that moment, Christine was beyond confused, and beyond overwhelmed.

And the angel and the phantom walked hand in hand, in the stillness of the night. But little did the angel know of what the phantom had in store for her.

_The phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind._

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine wanted to runaway from Erik, to break away, and yet she wanted to melt into him for all eternity. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him how horrified she was at all the things that he had done earlier that night. And the fact that he had allowed her to believe that he was dead all this time, but no words came out. She wanted to hate him, but instead she found herself adoring him.

They were now walking on a paved path, right between the gardens that surrounded the church. The gardens suddenly lit up with light, and these lights that looked more like burning fireworks to Christine, stood on each side, border lining their path, all the way up to the great door of the church. And as the path became visible to Christine, she realized that she was walking on a carpet of roses, red and white.

Christine stared in awe, at the magnificence of the site.

Erik looked back at her.

"You are the light in my dark, Christine" Erik whispered lovingly.

Christine's eyes met his. Her eyes were filled with fascination. And Erik found himself smiling inwardly in satisfaction. His genius had paid off extremely well, as he saw how taken Christine was, by the site of it all.

"_In sleep he sang to me  
In dreams he came  
That voice which calls to me  
And speaks my name_

_And do I dream again? For now I find.  
The Phantom of the Opera is there-Inside my mind."_

That scene seemed so similar to her. She had felt that same kind of magic only once before, and it was when Erik had taken her hand for the first time, and led her through a similar kind of fantasy world, all the way to his lair.

Now, she was following him again, as he was leading her towards the church, inside a world that seemed more like a fantasy come true. And Christine was utterly spellbound.

Then all of a sudden a surge of fear erupted in her being, as she realized that she didn't know why he was doing this, or for what purpose, just like she had hesitated the first time he had led her away from the world. And Christine turned her face for a moment, to look back at the carriage that stood away from them, back in the dark.

Erik saw her hesitation, and turned her face back to him. She was once again, completely lost under his spell.

"_Sing once again with me  
Our strange duet  
My power over you  
Grows stronger yet_

_And though you turn from me to glance behind  
The phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind"_

And Christine remembered _mist, swirling mist upon a vast glassy lake, there were candles all around, and on the lake there was a boat, and in the boat there was a man. _

Oh how it seemed like the past was repeating itself, only this time, the outcome would be different. They reached the door of the church, the moment of truth had come. Erik opened the door, and led her in.

For a moment, Christine's whole world seemed to stand still, in a moment of utter shock and awe.

The church was filled with candles everywhere, and small bouquets of white roses, gracefully decorated the edge of every pew, border lining the isle, all the way down to the alter, with their beautiful white shade.

And the path of the isle itself was covered with what seemed like star dust to Christine, it glittered before her, in the candle light, as if it were a path made of silver and gold.

Christine noticed something else, something more special to her. All the way down at the alter, lay one single red rose, tied with a black satin ribbon, and a ring resting in its palms. At this point, Christine's heart was beating so fast, she thought it would jump out of her chest.

Erik swirled his cape around, removing it with one swift, graceful movement. He stood there, in his red death suit before Christine.

He moved closer to her. Her eyes still looked in amazement and awe at every aspect of the church, only now her eyes where on him, as he took her hand again. A heavenly tune breathed its incense in the church, its melodies seemed to echo in every corner of Christine's universe.

There was also a priest standing at the alter, he seemed familiar to Christine.

Erik led her down the isle. Christine was beyond overwhelmed.

The breathtaking sites, the spellbinding tunes, the mesmerizing touch of his hand on hers. It all beyond excited and scared her, at the same time.

And as they reached the alter, Christine turned to look at the priest.

"Father Thomas!" She exclaimed, her eyes glittering with a child like joy. She was right she knew him.

"What a wonderful surprise!" she added

"A wonderful surprise indeed!" father Thomas retorted.

Christine looked back up at Erik, and said excitedly, with a smile on her face: "Father Thomas was the priest in the church that my father and I, used to go to, and-"

But Christine interrupted her own self, as she suddenly asked in surprise: "you knew didn't you! How did you-?"

"I just knew" Erik replied smoothly, before she had a chance to finish her question.

Father Thomas started the service, and Erik kept eye contact with Christine all the while. She was completely consumed by his breathtaking gaze. Not to mention that his red death mask brought out the color in his amazing eyes, even more.

She couldn't turn away, she couldn't refuse, and she couldn't resist.

And in that moment Christine knew that Erik had literally taken her, _past the point of no_ _return_. There was no going back now, even if she wanted to, her heart and soul wouldn't allow her.

Erik was gazing at her adoringly.

She was a vision, standing before him in the candle light, so completely unaware of her hypnotizing beauty. She looked like an angel, who had come from heaven especially for him, a gift that had restored his belief in God. And her white angel outfit, with the wings, just added to the beauty of her appearance. And the crown of white roses that she was wearing on her head, as her hair fell gracefully on her shoulders.

Her big brown eyes glittered amazingly in the candle light. She was like a portrait, a vision of an artist's dream.

And Erik was mesmerized.

"Do you Monsieur Erik-"

Father Thomas stopped and looked at him questioningly.

"There is no last name father" Erik replied.

"But how-"

"Love is enough. We just want God's blessing" Erik retorted.

Father Thomas nodded slowly, as a faint smile drew on his face, and he replied: "well then, let's go on with the service shall we?"

Both Erik and Christine nodded.

"So do you Erik take Mademoiselle Christine Daae to be you lovely wedded wife, to love and to cherish her, for as long as you both shall live"

"I do" Erik replied with every fiber of his being.

"And do you Mademoiselle Daae take Monsieur Erik, to be your lovely wedded husband, to love and to cherish him, for as along as you both shall live"

"I do" Christine's heart, soul, and voice, replied in unison.

Father Thomas then said to Erik: "you may now take the ring"

Erik gently lifted the red rose in his hand, and slid the ring down its stem, away from the black satin ribbon. Then he placed the red rose back on the alter, and took Christine's white gloved hand in his black gloved one, and gently removed her white glove, as he slid the ring on her finger.

It was the most beautiful ring Christine had ever seen.

Father Thomas then said: "by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride. May God bless this union."

x-x-x-x-x-x

_We've passed the point of no return._

And the horizon was born.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Thirteen: (I loved him)**

"_I loved him like no other…I loved him, with a passion beyond reason…I loved him with all my heart, soul, and mind…I loved him, as he loved me."_

Christine's diary

x-x-x-x

_You have come here  
in pursuit of your deepest urge,  
in pursuit of that wish,  
which till now has been silent,  
silent . . .  
I have brought you,  
that our passions may fuse and merge  
in your mind you've already succumbed to me  
dropped all defenses completely succumbed to me  
now you are here with me:  
no second thoughts,  
you've decided,  
decided . . .  
_  
Now back in his lair, Erik stood gazing at Christine who was silent.

He could tell she seemed nervous. He was nervous as well but he didn't show it. Erik removed his gloves with one swift move and gracefully walked toward her. With a few paces, he was standing before her.

He raised her face toward him as their eyes locked once more. Christine opened her mouth as if wanting to speak but she couldn't.

She had so many questions she wanted to ask him. All she could do was close her eyes and take in the magic of his touch as his fingers caressed her cheek ever so gently and then traced an invisible line down her neck and along her chest. Christine's lips were now slightly parted and her breath became heavy with desire.

Erik was studying her every feature as his lips came closer to hers. She could feel his breath on her skin. He gently brushed his lips against hers and paused for a moment.

Christine impulsively continued the kiss by pressing her lips harder on his. In an instant, they were in each others arms, their lips locked passionately and their tongues intertwined with such fire and heat.

Erik held her in his arms. His hands removed the wings from her white angel costume and started unlacing her dress.

Christine's hands were wrapped around Erik's neck. She moved them down across Erik's chest as she started to unbutton the top of his red death suit. After Christine had finished unbuttoning it, she pushed his jacket over his shoulders. The red top gently fell to the ground revealing the white shirt that Erik was wearing underneath.

_Past the point of no return  
no backward glances  
the games we've played till now are at an end . . .  
Past all thought of "if" or "when"  
no use resisting:  
abandon thought, and let the dream descend . . .  
What raging fire shall flood the soul?  
What rich desire unlocks its door?  
What sweet seduction lies before us . . .?  
_  
Erik pushed Christine's white angel costume down her shoulders. It slid down her body and gently pooled on the floor around her beautiful legs.

Christine was in her undergarments. Erik started kissing her on the neck and the shoulders, all the way down to her chest as she tilted her head backwards and sighed in ecstasy.

He consumed her with every touch, every kiss, and every move.

Suddenly Erik pulled away from her. He gazed at her standing there all flushed and breathing heavily, as was he. He needed a moment to catch his breath. Their kisses had gotten so intense that it scared both of them.

Christine gazed upon him standing in the candlelight. He absolutely had no idea how attractive he looked. His eyes blazing behind the mask, his white shirt half-opened now, his well-built, muscular chest shimmering in the candle light.

Christine ached for him. Her body cried out for his touch.

_You have brought me  
to that moment where words run dry,  
to that moment where speech disappears into silence,  
silence . . .  
I have come here,  
hardly knowing the reason why . . .  
In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining  
defenseless and silent -  
and now I am here with you  
no second thoughts,  
I've decided,  
decided . . .  
_  
Christine couldn't fight the urge anymore. She walked up to him and ripped the rest of his white shirt open revealing his full chest. She slid it down his shoulders and started to kiss his bare chest passionately. Gently, she began to touch his every scar with her soft fingers and then kissed them away.

Erik tilted his head back and sighed in pleasure.

Christine moved her hands up to his face as she ever so gently tried to remove his mask. Erik swiftly and firmly held her hand. Christine got the message and obeyed as Erik gently lifted her face back up to him and their lips met again.

Another long chain of kisses followed. Now, Erik started unlacing her undergarments.

With one swift move, he removed the remaining clothing from her body.

There she stood, in all her glory, her naked body glowing in the gentle candle-light. Erik pulled away from her and just stood there, staring at her beautiful form. He had never seen a naked woman before.

As she stood there blushing, the sight of Christine took his breath away.

She was just so beautiful and so mesmerizing. He literally ached for her as he walked up to her again and took her in his arms.

"You're so beautiful, my love," Erik whispered.

They started kissing passionately once more. His hands began exploring every aspect of her perfect body. They were both burning with passion and pleasure. Christine suddenly jumped on him and wrapped her legs around his waist. In turn, he carried her to the swan bed.

_Past the point of no return  
no going back now:  
our passion-play  
has now, at last, begun . . .  
Past all thought of right or wrong -  
one final question:  
How long should we two wait,  
before we're one . . .?  
_  
In the stillness of the night, two bodies merged and intertwined with such passion and such heat.

Two souls became one. Two beings experienced pleasure neither of them knew existed.

Heaven was not a fantasy anymore - it was reality.

Christine slept in his arms as she'd never slept before. It was the best experience of her life. She was beyond happy and beyond satisfied.

The peace and the safety she felt in Erik's arms were beyond description. In his arms Christine felt like she was literally in paradise. All her dreams had come true that night. She felt like nothing in the world could harm her or disturb her joy and peace.

As Christine lay sleeping so peacefully in his arms, Erik marveled at how good it felt to have her in his arms, to feel the touch of her warm skin on his. It was a dream come true.

Erik had never experienced such happiness.

All this time, he had lived his life in agony, loneliness, and bitterness not knowing what it meant to be truly loved by anyone or anything. He had been a broken soul and now tonight this being that lay there so innocently in his arms had brought life into him. She had healed him in so many ways.

She had resurrected a part of his soul that had long been dead. She had saved him from the tormenting loneliness in which he existed.

Most importantly, and the thing that shocked him the most, was that she had loved him. She had truly loved him.

A tear rolled down Erik's bare cheek in disbelief. This beautiful, perfect creature of God had loved him!

"…_I, the deformed monster, the man with the broken soul!" _Erik thought.

She had loved him. She had truly loved him.

_Past the point of no return  
the final threshold  
the bridge is crossed,  
so stand and watch it burn . . .  
We've passed the point of no return . . ._

x-x-x-x

"_I loved him, more than I thought I could love…I loved him, with a burning fire, an eternal flame, that still burns within me…he was my angel…he was my life… I loved him, as he loved me…and I still love him, for such a love can never die."_

Christine's diary


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fourteen: (The Mystery of the Heart)**

**(The year: 1920)**

Raoul put the diary on the table; he couldn't read anymore. Tears were flowing freely down his cheeks, blinding him, drowning his soul. He had just read the most intimate details of Christine's affair with the Phantom. It cut through his heart like a knife.

He knew that he was partly responsible because he had pushed her away from him, back then, leaving her completely defenseless against Erik's spell. At that time, he had thought that Erik was dead.

And yet, in the midst of all that heart wrenching pain, there was something else that tormented him, something else that haunted, shocked and confused him.

How could Christine have possibly married Erik when she had never been divorced from him? He had never received a letter from her asking for a divorce and he had never signed any divorce papers. How was it possible? If he hadn't signed the divorce papers, then who did? Why did Christine return to him if she had always loved Erik more?

And then, there was the most confusing question of them all - why did Christine pretend that she had never asked him for a divorce when she had?

Raoul could not believe how Christine had deceived him all this time.

All of a sudden, he wished that he had never started reading that damned diary. He hated that diary so much now. He also knew that he had to continue; he had to go on. He had to find out the truth because the torment of not knowing would be a lot worse.

"Excuse me, Monsieur, but lunch is ready," the maid announced as she came in.

Raoul turned to face her and slowly replied, "Thank you but I'm not hungry."

"But, sir, remember the doctor's orders. You have to eat!"

Raoul shook his head as he said, "I will. I will but not now. Please. I need to be alone."

"As you wish, Monsieur," Danielle sighed in defeat and left.

Raoul looked up at the clock on the wall and realized that he had been sitting there in the living room for at least three hours now. He didn't care. His sight fell back upon the diary that was resting on the table beside him.

With all the strength he could gather, he raised it up once again in his trembling hands.

It was now pouring outside. Raoul could hear the rhythm of the rain playing its mysterious tunes as if it were trying to tell him something. He was caught in the middle of the storm and there was no going back. He had to face the truth.

Perhaps, the greatest truth lay in Christine's diary, in those few sentences that said more than a thousand words could say.

Christine had written: _"There are many mysteries in the world, but I guess that the greatest mystery of them all, is the mystery of the heart. For there is no other mystery as haunting, as frightening, as beautiful, and as tormenting, as the mystery of the heart."  
_  
That was the ultimate truth, the truth that held all the other truths within its grasp.

As Raoul painfully started reading where he had left off, he slowly whispered, _"And the greatest mystery of them all is the mystery of the heart."_

**(The year: 1872)  
**  
Monsieur Firmin was sitting behind his desk thinking how he couldn't have prevented everything that had happened even had he done things differently. He let out a sigh of frustration.

Suddenly, Monsieur Andre barged in with the newspaper in his hand and exclaimed frantically, "Monsieur Firmin, have you read the newspapers today? It is completely outrageous!"

Monsieur Firmin nodded.

"I know. It's all a bunch of rubbish," Firmin replied in exhaustion.

Monsieur Andre continued, "Just listen to this!"

He raised the newspaper in his hand and read: **_"The Opera Populaire was revisited by its infamous Opera Ghost last night. Their patron, Monsieur Pierre Richard, was gravely injured and he still struggles between life and death. Their Prima Ballerina, Mademoiselle Meg Giry, was inexplicably found in her room in a state of utter shock, while her bruises were bandaged and taken care of by a mysterious hand. She still refuses to speak or acknowledge anyone around her. As for their Opera star, Mademoiselle Christine Daae, also known as Countess De Chagny, she has completely vanished, no word of her whereabouts. After all, it seems that the Phantom has had his revenge in the end."_**

Monsieur Andre put the newspaper on the table in frustration.

"We're ruined all over again, Firmin. We're ruined!" Andre exclaimed.

Monsieur Firmin put his hands on his face as he sighed again.

"No, we're not ruined. If we can just prove that he is still ali-"

Suddenly, Madame Giry's voice rang out calm and firm as usual, interrupting Monsieur Firmin's sentence as she said, "No, we're not ruined. Believe it or not gentlemen, if the Opera Ghost wanted to ruin you, he would have burned down the entire Opera House and not just a mere ballroom. Not to mention that there were no deaths, just injuries."

Both men were looking at her now.

"And how is Meg?" Monsieur Firmin asked.

Madame Giry spoke in a softer tone as she replied, worry evident in her voice, "Well, she still refuses to talk but she is a lot better. Her bruises are not as bad as we thought they were."

Madame Giry took a deep breath and continued, "I thank God and whoever it was that saved my daughter last night."

In her heart, Madame Giry knew who it was that had saved her daughter. She just prayed to God that nothing terrible had happened to Meg and that Erik had not saved her from anything more than the fire.

Madame Giry had her doubts as she silently cursed herself for not attending the Masquerade because she hadn't been feeling well.

She just couldn't get rid of the thought that if she had attended, she might have been able to protect her daughter from whatever it was that caused her little Meg all this pain. Meg looked as if she had suffered severe trauma. Madame Giry highly doubted that the fire was the only cause for that. Her heart missed a beat.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine opened her eyes and yawned as she stretched on the soft silk bed. She suddenly remembered where she was and all that had happened the night before.

Christine sat up in bed and looked around. The reality of everything she had done started to hit her. She had married Erik! She barely knew him and yet here she was lying naked in his bed, feeling happy and safe.

Despite everything that had happened during Masquerade, it had been the most beautiful night of her life. For a moment, Christine didn't know if she was outraged with herself or outright surprised.

She rose from the bed and wrapped herself with the beautiful red covers of the swan bed. She moved the curtains up only to find Erik bent down on his piano frantically scribbling something down. _"Writing music,"_ she thought.

"E-Erik."

Erik turned around to see her standing there, wrapped in the covers of the swan bed. She looked so beautiful.

Their eyes met for a few moments.

There were a lot of things she wanted to talk to him about but first things first as she bit her lip in embarrassment.

"Where are my clothes?" she asked.

"I don't know. I kind of like you this way," Erik replied with a mischievous grin.

Christine blushed as she averted her eyes away from his for a moment.

"Erik! Please!" she said shyly.

Erik rose and walked over to her. He raised her face with his hands as he planted a kiss on her rosy lips and said, "I'll get them."

Christine started getting dressed. To her frustration, she found that she couldn't lace her corset. She needed help and just the thought of calling Erik to help her made her blush so badly.

So instead, she just sat there on the bed inside the room thinking about what she should do. Erik walked in and Christine almost screamed.

"I'm not decent yet!" she exclaimed.

Erik smiled.

"You are my wife or have you forgotten. Here. Let me help you with the laces," he replied, gently turned her around and standing behind her, so dangerously close.

Christine gasped as soon as Erik placed a hand on her. His touch sent electricity through all her body as his hands gracefully moved across her back. Her breathing started to get heavy with the fire she was feeling.

"I love you, Erik," Christine suddenly whispered with the utmost of feeling and passion.

Erik stopped with the lacing and turned her around to him as he looked deep into her eyes.

"Whenever I'm around you, all reason disappears and all speech vanishes from me. A-and I can't control it. It frightens me so," Christine continued, a look of confusion and fear drawn on her face.

Erik gently held her to him and whispered with his beautiful melodious voice, "Who said logic has anything to do with love, my angel. Love in itself defies all reason and logic."

Christine slowly moved away from him.

"Erik, we need to talk," she said softly.

Erik sat down in utter amusement, watching as Christine paced back and forth in her half laced corset, nervous, thinking about her words.

She looked so beautiful that Erik couldn't help but smile. He was wearing a half-buttoned white shirt with brown pants. His white half mask rested on the deformed side of his face.

Christine then turned to Erik.

"You do realize that we got married without even having one decent conversation!" she exclaimed frantically.

Erik nodded in amusement and Christine continued nervously, "And you do realize that we barely know each other. And it's just crazy!"

Erik slowly rose and walked toward her as she continued in tension, "I-it's crazy! And-"

Erik stopped her by placing a deep, soft kiss on her lips, leaving her breathless as he whispered in her ear with his hauntingly beautiful voice, "Angel, marrying you was one of the very few sane things I've done in my entire life."

Looking deep into her big chocolate eyes, he continued, "Do you know what the greatest mystery is?"

Christine shook her head.

"No," she softly replied.

He smiled slightly as he pulled her to him, his arms wrapped around her waist.

"There are many mysteries in the world, but the greatest mystery of them all is the mystery of the heart. For there is no other mystery as haunting, as frightening, as beautiful, and as tormenting, as the mystery of the heart," Erik whispered with his smooth, silky voice.

And just like that, they were in each other's arms again.

_And the greatest mystery of them all, is the mystery of the heart._


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Fifteen: (The Price)**

" '_There's a price for everything,' my father always used to tell me. I never really understood that saying. Not until the days taught me what that saying truly meant."_

Christine's diary

x-x-x-x-x

Christine sat at her vanity table, softly brushing her hair and thinking about everything that had happened. She was back in her room; Erik had brought her back. She just couldn't figure him out and it both frustrated and attracted her at the same time.

He didn't tell her of any of his plans and sometimes she preferred not to know. But now, she wondered, how Erik could be so calm when his secret was probably out. Many people would know that he was still alive after what he had done. Yet Erik did not seem concerned about the matter at all.

And it confused Christine to say the least.

There was one thing she knew about him, one thing she knew for sure - he was the man she loved and adored. Christine found herself smiling at her reflection.

She looked radiant, beautiful and happy. For the first time in a very long time, Christine was overjoyed.

A knock on the door brought her out of her daydreams. Christine rose and opened the door.

"They told me you had returned," Madame Giry stated as she walked into Christine's room.

"Yes, yes," Christine replied nervously.

Madame Giry eyed her.

"Well, my dear, where were you all night long?" she asked keenly.

Christine cleared her throat and replied nervously, "Well, I, um, didn't Monsieur Firmin tell you where I was?"

Christine had made up a little white lie about staying at a friend's house that night that she had told to Monsieur Firmin.

"No," Madame Giry replied casually.

"Well," Christine said, taking a deep breath, knowing that she had to lie because she was afraid to tell the truth.

"Well, I was at a friend's house," Christine replied, hating herself at that moment.

Madame Giry looked at her knowingly as she stated in a matter of fact tone, "You don't have any friends outside of the Opera House, Christine."

Christine looked down at her feet in embarrassment for a moment. Then she looked back up at Madame Giry.

"Well, y-yes, I do. You forget that I was married to Raoul for a long while," Christine replied hesitantly.

"Yes, but you lived in the country side all the while, not in Paris," Madame Giry replied in amusement because it was so obvious that Christine was lying and Madame Giry knew it.

After a moment, Madame continued, "Ma Cherie, there is no need to lie. I know that Erik is still alive and I know that you were with him last night."

Christine looked surprised.

"How did you-?" she asked.

"I just knew," Madame Giry interrupted her with a swing of her hand and went on to say, "you tell him, when you see him, that I need to talk to him. It is very important."

Her voice was firm and there was a finality in her tone as she continued, "And you tell him that if he doesn't come to see me, I will go to him. And he knows that I'm a woman who keeps her word."

Christine nodded.

Madame Giry turned around to leave.

"How is Meg? I haven't known anything about her ever since last night and I've been worried sick!" Christine suddenly asked with concern.

Madame turned back to Christine.

"She's not doing very well," she replied, worry and grief evident in her usually firm voice. She sighed and continued, "Last night we found her in her room. She was sleeping. She was bruised and battered but someone had bandaged her wounds and taken care of her."

A tear rolled down Madame Giry's cheek as she went on, "I don't know what happened to her. She isn't talking to anyone."

"Can I see her?" Christine asked.

Madame Giry nodded as both women walked out of Christine's room.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine entered Meg's room.

Meg was sitting in bed, her back resting on the pillows. She had red and purple marks on her hands, a cut on her lower lip and some bruises on her face, minor, but none the less bruises. For an instant, Christine's heart skipped a beat.

Christine sat next to Meg on the bed, as Madame Giry nodded in approval, excused herself, and left.

Christine looked for a moment at Meg's room; it was a fancy room, just like hers. "_Yes, of course, silly me. Those are the fancy rooms of prima ballerinas and opera stars."_

Christine sighed at how she and Meg had changed, how their lives had changed so drastically. Now, Christine's heart trembled at the sight of her battered friend. Meg's voice usually rang with joy, innocence and the excitement of telling stories. But now only silence lingered in the air around both women… yes, women, for they were not girls anymore.

Christine held Meg's hand and whispered softly, "Meg, my dearest friend, how are you? … Please, talk to me… who did this to you?"

Meg did not reply. She kept on staring at nothingness, slightly swaying back and forth.

At the sight of her very distraught friend, Christine couldn't help the tears that started to flow from her eyes. She cried for her best friend.

Suddenly, Meg's hand squeezed Christine's hand in hers. Christine abruptly stopped crying as she swiftly looked back at Meg, who was still staring at nothingness.

"Oh, Meg, please talk to me!" Christine begged and pleaded once again.

But Meg said nothing.

Christine rose from Meg's bedside with a heavy heart. She started walking slowly toward the door. As she was about to walk out the door, she heard Meg say, "The Phantom of the Opera is there… the Phantom is there…"

Meg continued to slightly sway back and forth.

Christine stopped dead in her tracks. Her heart almost stopped beating from shock and horror.

After a few moments, Christine was able to turn around and face Meg.

"Erik? H-He did this to you?" Christine barely whispered.

Meg continued swaying back and forth as she said over and over again, "The Phantom of the Opera is there… the Phantom is there…"

Then she suddenly looked up at Christine and their eyes met in a haunting moment.

Meg went on, "Beware..."

"_The Phantom of the Opera is there… The Phantom is there… Beware…"_

Christine's whole world turned black. Time seemed to stand still. Christine thought she would die.

Just as Christine's world had started to become very dark and dreary, Meg continued "Pierre..."

"_The Phantom of the Opera is there…The Phantom is there…Beware…Pierre…"_

Christine could breathe again.

"Pierre!" Christine exclaimed as she continued in confusion. "Meg, please, tell me! Was it Pierre who did this to you?"

Christine walked closer to Meg's bed and knelt down beside her again.

As soon as Christine stretched out her hand to hold Meg's hand again, Meg snatched her hand away and screamed, "Don't touch me!"

Christine suddenly flinched away and was even more confused.

"Meg, i-it's me, Christine! … Please, tell me what happened?"

Meg swiftly moved away from Christine as she threatened, "Stay away from me, Pierre! Stay away! …The Phantom is there…"

Christine's heart broke at the sight of her friend.

"Oh, Meg, it's me! Christine! … I'm not Pierre! … Dearest Meg! Oh, God! What happened to you?" Christine whispered in grief.

x-x-x-x-x

"_But how was I to know that what happened to Meg was only the beginning. How was I to know that the person who inflicted all this pain on her innocent soul and body was the one who would soon destroy my fairy tale as well? And how was I to know that skeletons from Erik's dark, mysterious past would come to haunt us._

_Yes, there's a price for everything and in Meg's case, she didn't even have a say in it. She was just caught in the middle of the Phantom's battle with an old enemy. But little did I know back then about those truths, and little did she know as well. _

_Yes, there's a price for everything but how far are you willing to go, how much are you willing to pay, for the sake of the ones you love. Soon, I would be forced to answer that question myself. But little did I know back then of the horror that awaited me, the price that I would pay."_

Christine's diary


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Sixteen: (Life)**

Life is like an intricate piece of art, a lavish painting that we create with our own actions and decisions. Sometimes one small decision can change the course of an entire life, and sometimes one action can cost its owner everything.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Madame Giry entered her room as she let out a sigh of frustration.

She had left Christine with her daughter.

"_If she won't respond to me, maybe she will respond to her best friend," _she thought in despair.

As soon as she had closed the door and turned around, she let out a shriek.

"Erik! You almost gave me a heart attack!" she exclaimed.

Erik rose from the chair in which he was sitting and walked toward Antoinette.

"Good to see you, too, Antoinette," he replied coolly.

"Oh, don't you start with me," Madame Giry said angrily as she walked toward him. She slapped him hard on the bare side of his face.

The sound of the slap was loud and clear. Erik moved a few feet away from her, his hand instinctively moving up to his now red cheek.

"That was for letting me believe that you were dead all this time!" Madame Giry boiled with anger as she continued, "You saw me mourn your death. You saw me cry for you. And still you let me go on believing that you were dead!"

Erik did not know if he was amused with Madame Giry's obvious concern for him or if he was angry with her because she had slapped him.

There was one thing he was sure of - he felt guilty because he had never wanted to cause Antoinette any pain.

"It was for your own sake," he replied calmly.

Looking deep into her stern eyes with his blazing ones, he continued, "If I had told you, the police would have considered you my accomplice and I didn't want that."

After a moment of deadly silence, he went on, a hint of sadness evident in his voice, "Just because one still breathes, it does not mean that they are alive. Physical death is not the only kind of death, you know."

Madame Giry's anger began to subside as she sighed.

"Let it be the last time you do this to me," she replied, her voice back to its normal level.

Erik nodded and Madame Giry continued with a more affectionate tone, "You and Meg are my only family. You should know that by now."

Erik nodded again.

"How is Meg?" he asked with concern.

Madame Giry's expression became clouded with grief and worry and she replied with a trembling voice, "I don't know. She's still not speaking to anyone. That's why I wanted to see you."

She abruptly looked up at him again.

"I need to know what happened to my daughter, Erik, and you are going to tell me," she said firmly.

Erik placed his hands on Madame Giry's shoulders and led her toward the chair.

"Sit down," he ordered.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Lying in bed and in obvious agony, he called out to his assistant.

François entered the room and stood by his master's bed as Pierre slowly and painfully spoke, "François, tell me what the doctor said."

"Well, the doctor said that your wounds are healing very nicely. And that in no time, you will be back on your feet again," Francois replied nervously.

Pierre took a deep breath of relief and continued frailly, "And what about my face?"

François did not reply, out of fear…fear of his master's reaction.

Pierre was irritated by François' lack of response.

"Go and fetch me the mirror, now!" he ordered.

François nodded and rushed toward the dresser. He retrieved the small mirror that was placed on it and fearfully handed it to his master.

Pierre took a deep breath and turned the mirror around, so that he would be able to see his reflection. A gasp filled the room for an instant and then, deadly silence. The mirror fell from his hand and hit the floor by his bed, shattering into a thousand pieces.

François moved away from his master, fearful of talking or moving. He could see how upset his master was.

After a few moments, when Pierre had regained some of his composure, he turned to François, who was still standing at the corner of the room in fear.

"Come here, you imbecile, fool of an assistant," Pierre spat out.

François trembled and hesitantly walked toward his master's bed.

"What did the doctor say about my face?" Pierre inquired.

François hesitated for a moment and then replied sheepishly, "Well, the doctor said, that…" François cleared his voice and continued, "t-that the s-scars will remain."

He eyed his master to see his reaction and continued hesitantly, "The doctor suggested t-that m-maybe you should c-consider wearing a m-mask."

"What!" Pierre exclaimed with fury and outrage as François again moved away in fear.

After a few moments, Pierre had calmed himself down.

"The phantom will pay for this and for everything else he's done. I will take everything dear to him. I will destroy him completely," Pierre hissed menacingly.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Yes, Life is like an intricate piece of art, a lavish painting that we create with our own actions and decisions. And sometimes, the decision can be deadly.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Madame Giry sat at her vanity table, so absorbed in her thoughts that even the loud roaring of the thunder could not disturb the rivers of her mind as her heart ached beyond words.

She felt so guilty. If only she had gone to that damned masquerade, none of this would have happened to her daughter.

_Guilt is a terrible feeling.  
_  
Meg would never have gone to Pierre Richard and this whole fiasco would have ended, if she had only taken the decision to go to that party.

Madame Giry would never forgive herself now; she just couldn't. Her daughter had been almost robbed of her virtue if Erik had not intervened at the last moment.

Madame Giry could only imagine what horrors her daughter must have lived through, while thinking that she was going to be raped and trying to fight to save herself.

She could see her daughter pleading, choking, fighting under that bastard's grasp as he was about to violate her. That thought alone tormented Madame Giry ruthlessly.

She could never repay Erik's kindness and yet, she felt guilty all over again.

_Guilt is a horrible feeling._

x-x-x-x-x-x_  
_  
Erik paced back and forth in his lair, restless, and feeling guilty beyond words.

He had so many things to feel guilty about, and yet the thing he hated himself most for was the fact that he had married Christine. How could he have done that to her? It would have been better if he had let her go on believing that he was dead. Now, it was too late.

He had condemned a pure, innocent, beautiful angel to be with him, the monster.

"_How selfish can one get?"_ Erik thought.

He felt as if he had taken advantage of her, and that thought alone stabbed him in the heart.

_Guilt is a vicious feeling.  
_  
Silently, he felt guilty for many other things as well.

Why had he done what he did, in front of poor Meg?

She was such a delicate being and yet he had deformed Pierre, right before her eyes!

"_What kind of monster am I?"_ he exclaimed to himself.

He hadn't thought about the shock that his actions would cause her, even though he was saving her life. Again, he had let his anger get in the way, or was it his lust for blood. Erik was not sure. The thought itself tortured him.

Although he would never admit it, the only reason Carlotta was still singing in his Opera House was because he felt guilty about killing Pianji.

Yes, Erik felt guilty, guilty for so many crimes that he had committed - from marrying Christine to following his own selfish desires, to everything else. Erik felt guilty - for a past that was filled with hate and blood, for the many secrets that he had never told anyone about.

_Guilt is a silent feeling and yet its impact is deafening on one's life._

x-x-x-x-x-x

Life is an intricate piece of art, a lavish painting that we create with our own actions and decisions. Sometimes one small decision can change the course of an entire life, and sometimes one action can cost its owner everything.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Seventeen: (The Promise)**

"_I can still hear his voice. I can still remember his promise, for how could I ever forget. And his voice still whispers to me in the silence of the night, in the semblance of my dreams and in the crashing waves of my memories. And that promise - Ah, that promise still echoes in the universe of my heart, to this day."_

Christine's diary

x-x-x-x-x-x

Two weeks had passed and Erik had not made any attempt to contact Christine.

What she didn't know was that every night he had watched her fall asleep from behind the mirror. When she had fallen asleep, he would slide the mirror door open and enter her room, only to stare at her angelic face for a while, only to leave a soft kiss on her forehead and then disappear once again into his kingdom of darkness, his lair, back to writing notes and living in solitude.

Christine grew more worried and confused with every passing day.

Every day in the Opera House was like the previous day - waking up early, eating breakfast, getting ready for practice, then practicing for long hours while taking a break between rehearsals to relax and eat lunch, and last but not least, listening to the gossip of the ballet rats and the workers of the Opera House.

Christine knew all too well what they were talking about. Meg's condition was one of the things they talked about along with the Opera Ghost, the fire and Monsieur Pierre Richard's condition. Christine knew that they gossiped about her as well.

"_Oh, yes!" one young naïve ballet rat exclaimed to the others. "The Opera Ghost really is there and he probably can see us now!" _

"_Oh!" the other girls exclaimed in fear as another girl whispered frantically, "Well then, if he can see us, how do we know that he won't hurt us because we're talking about him! I mean just look what he did to poor Meg!" _

_The other girls nodded frantically in agreement, their eyes filled with fear.  
_  
Erik smiled widely while watching those foolish girls gossip about him. It amused him so, to see how naïve and stupid they were.

Meg had been missing rehearsals all through those two weeks. Everyone knew that she was sick but rumor had it that the Phantom had done something terrible to her.

Although Madame Giry had tried her best to make those lies die down and to assure everyone that her daughter's condition had improved drastically, it didn't work; the ballet rats still gossiped.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Monsieur Firmin entered his office, only to find a note waiting for him on his table. He slowly picked it up and opened it. It said:

_Don't you ever dare disobey me again.  
I remain your obedient servant._

_O.G  
_  
Monsieur Firmin placed the letter on the table and sighed. Now he had learned his lesson well. The ballroom was under reconstruction again.

There was a question that made Monsieur Firmin often wonder why it was that Erik allowed him to reconstruct the entire Opera House except for the old theater. That was the only place that was off limits to anyone or anything. It was to be locked and abandoned. For the life of him, Monsieur Firmin couldn't understand why Erik would want to preserve the token of a very bad memory.

What nobody knew was that that abandoned theater was the place to which Erik went when he needed to reflect and think. That theater held so many sad memories. It represented a part of his life that would always be there to haunt him.

That theater also represented the dark side of his soul and the deformed side of his face. He and this Opera House were now very similar, although no one really noticed. Both of them wore masks but yet hiding somewhere behind the mask there was an area of deformation, an abandoned ruined place that no one was allowed to enter or see - no one but Erik.

As Erik stood in the place where Bouquet used to stand, the entire theater lay before his eyes, only it wasn't glamorous or beautiful or lively as it used to be. It was a dead theater, an abandoned, ruined place with a huge shattered chandelier in the middle.

Erik walked in its shadows for a while as he came to a decision, a very important decision. He had realized that a part of him would always be like this theater - abandoned, dark and alone. There was a part of him that would always be like that other theater, the new one, filled with light and life. That part of his being had come to be because of Christine and her love.

Erik decided that he was going to fight for this marriage; he wasn't going to wallow in self-pity or hesitation anymore.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine walked back to her room. It had been a long day of rehearsal. She was so tired and she missed Erik so much.

Tonight she was going to see him. _"Even if I have to break down that damned mirror,"_ she thought to herself, _"and venture into the dark halls of the Opera Cellars."_ Those were halls that Christine barely knew.

As she entered her room and closed the door behind her, she put the light on and turned around only to find a beautiful red rose with a black satin ribbon resting on her vanity table. Christine picked it up and smelled its beautiful scent. Christine smiled widely, while her heart screamed with joy and her being ached for its sender.

She wasn't going to break the mirror down anymore. She was going to wait for him to come to her. _"And if he doesn't come to me,"_ she thought, "_then I WILL break down the mirror!" _She chuckled softly to herself.

She was wearing a beautiful, long, silk, light blue night-gown. She waited and she waited but Erik did not come.

Christine was so angry with him but she had gotten too tired to break down the mirror. She rose from the chair and walked to her bed. She lay on its soft sheets and fell asleep.

As she slept, a shadow moved slowly and gracefully toward her bed, with the red rose in his hand.

_You alone can make my song take flight.  
Help me make the music of the night._

The red rose traced the delicate curves of Christine's body and the voice sang to her. Christine opened her eyes as the touch of the red rose lingered on her skin. Erik gently traced her figure and her angelic face with the rose.

"Erik!" Christine whispered as his lips brushed softly against hers and his eyes blazed with passion from behind his white half mask that shimmered in the moonlight.

His bare hands traced her body softly. He lifted her up in his arms and brought her to him. Their lips locked as they fell back down on the bed.

The red rose fell to the floor.

Christine lay in Erik's arms so peaceful and happy. The silence around them was deafening and yet, Erik enjoyed the silence. It had been his only friend for many, many years.

Suddenly, Christine's voice broke the silence as she spoke, while lifting her head up, to look into Erik's eyes, "Erik."

Erik looked at her intently.

"Where were you these past two weeks?" Christine asked, a hint of hurt evident in her voice.

Erik noticed some anger in her voice as a faint smile drew on his face.

"I had some things to think about, my love. I'm here with you, now, aren't I?" he gently replied.

Christine hesitated for a moment.

"Well, yes, you are, but… don't do that again to me, please?" she stated firmly.

Erik smiled as he looked deep into her beautiful pleading eyes.

"I promise I will always be by your side," he said with his silky voice.

Christine smiled and lay her head back on his chest in complete surrender. Resting in Erik's arms was the most beautiful thing in the world to Christine.

At that moment, they both dared to believe that they would be together forever.

That promise that Erik made that night stayed with Christine her entire life. She never forgot it. Even on her deathbed, she still remembered his words, his promise… his wonderful promise.

After a few minutes, Christine asked faintly as she was drifting to sleep, "Why were you late tonight?"

"Tomorrow, I will show you why. Sleep now," Erik replied.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"_That night all I thought about was Erik's promise. I was so overjoyed that words can not describe all the feelings I was having. With his promise he had wiped away my fears. I really believed that our love story would last forever and that we would live happily ever after. But fairy tales don't exist in reality. I had thought that that night was only the beginning for me and Erik and that our journey of love and happiness would never end. _

_The ironic thing is that I was somehow right. _

_Yes, that night was the beginning. With that promise was the beginning, but not the beginning of happily ever after, but the beginning of the end."_

Christine's diary


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Eighteen: (A New Day)**

**(The year: 1920)**

Raoul closed the diary - he couldn't read anymore. He was beyond exhausted, physically and emotionally. The storm outside continued to roar but it was nothing compared to the storm inside.

His heart couldn't take anymore that day.

Danielle walked in, looking very concerned.

"Monsieur, you haven't eaten anything all day long! You must eat something and then you must go to bed!" she exclaimed.

Danielle was a tall, slender woman whose hair was grey and age had drawn its lines across her thin face and calm features.

Raoul looked at her for a second and then nodded, while wiping away his tears.

"Yes, yes, you're right. But I can't eat anything now. I just want to go to sleep," he answered.

"Yes, Monsieur, but first thing tomorrow, before you start again with this diary, you will eat!" Danielle replied with one hand placed on her waist as if she were his mother.

Raoul nodded as she asked him cautiously, "Do you promise?"

Raoul looked at her in shock. The parallels between what he was reading in Christine's diary about a promise and the situation now paralyzed him for a moment, although the situations were very different.

After he had regained speech, he whispered, "Yes, I promise."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Lying in bed that night, Raoul begged God for release. He wanted to die because he knew if he didn't, he would be forced to continue reading the diary. He couldn't read it anymore; he just couldn't. It was too much, too much for his old, tired heart.

He had given Christine his love, his devotion, his care, and yet she had repaid him by lying to him… by keeping a whole part of her life a secret from him.

At the same time, he didn't blame Christine for loving Erik the way she did.

Erik gave her what Roaul could never give her. He gave her music. He gave life to her soul and breath to her heart. Roaul knew that those gifts were more precious than all he had ever given Christine.

Now at last he understood why Christine's last words were: _"I promise, I will always be by your side."_

Raoul had thought that she had said those words to him. Now he knew that she had said them to Erik, as he remembered how she had ended her sentence with a soft cry as she pleadingly whispered, _"You promised!"_

Raoul had thought that Christine was hallucinating when she had said those last two words. Now he understood that she was not hallucinating at all. She was reminding her angel of his promise, the promise that he had made to her, once upon a night... a long time ago…

Slowly Raoul fell into a deep sleep, still begging God for the sweet release of death.

But death would not come, not yet, as the night faded away and the storm died down. And a new beautiful day was born, out of the shadows of the darkness.

Raoul opened his eyes as the rays of light dashed into his room and lit it up with a heavenly array of beauty.

Raoul smiled slightly to himself. _"What a glorious day," _he thought.

It was ironic that only yesterday there had been a storm. It had been a dark, dreary day. But today, it was a completely different day. It was sunny and the skies were blue.

He could even hear the beautiful singing of the birds.

Danielle came in just in time.

"So, Monsieur De Chagny, how are we feeling today?" she asked.

"A lot better, thank you," Raoul replied with a smile.

"Good!" Danielle exclaimed cheerfully.

"Please prepare breakfast for me, Danielle. I will take a bath in the meantime," Raoul retorted.

Danielle nodded and left.

While sitting at the big table, Raoul marveled at how peaceful he felt. He lifted the fresh cup of coffee and took a sip as he opened the newspaper and started reading it.

Suddenly, the maid came in and said apologetically, "I'm sorry to disturb you like this, Monsieur Le Vicomte, but this just arrived in the mail… it's for you."

Her hand stretched toward him, holding out a sealed letter.

"A letter from your son, Monsieur," she continued in an attempt to clarify.

"Christian?" Raoul exclaimed, taking the letter from her hand and opening it enthusiastically, his heart beating with joy.

It had been a long time since he had last heard from Christian, a few months to be precise, but to Raoul, it was as if years had passed. Holding the letter in his hands, he unfolded the paper as delicately as he could, with the utmost of care as if it would break in his grasp. Raoul began to read.

"_Dear father, _

_I have missed you so much. I hope that you are well and fine. I would like to inform you that my family and I are returning from Italy back to Paris in a few days. I look forward to meeting you again and to going to visit mother's grave. I miss her so. The children miss you, too. They love the stories you and mother used to tell them. I can't wait to return to Paris and to you._

_Your loving son,  
Christian"  
_  
Raoul smiled. He enthusiastically looked up at Danielle who was waiting anxiously.

"My son is coming back, Danielle! He's coming back! His contract is over at last!" he exclaimed in joy, his eyes glittering with happiness.

Danielle smiled.

"Yes, Monsieur De Chagny. Your son is a brilliant architect!" she replied.

"Yes, he is," Raoul emphasized, beaming with pride and then continued. "Oh, and I miss my grand children! I miss Rose and Lotte and little Jean Raoul!"

He smiled and held the letter close to his heart as if it were a precious diamond. That letter had just made his day and filled him with joy again. Raoul ate his breakfast with an appetite. Then he rose and walked over to the living room. Right there on the small table by the fireplace lay Christine's diary, silent.

Like a magnet, it drew Raoul back to it.

He knew he had to know the truth, the whole truth. Now it didn't matter much. He realized that Christine had given him what she had never given Erik. She had given him a son and many happy years, which they had all spent together as a family.

The memories that Christine had given him were enough.

"_Nothing can ruin my day… My son is coming back home and I will see my grandchildren again… life is beautiful… and Christine was mine, more than she was ever Erik's," _he thought confidently.

With a smile on his face, he whispered to himself, _"The sun is shining… a new day has come." _

He bravely lifted up the diary and opened it where he had left off the night before, once again on a journey to the past.

A new day had come indeed and with it came new light.

Light is warm, gentle and beautiful. But in the light everything is exposed. Nothing remains hidden under the rays of its bright glow.

And yet, sometimes it is better for certain truths to remain in the dark. Sometimes it is better not to know.

But _a new day had come_ with its beauty and brightness.

And a painful, long forgotten truth lay exposed under the veil of its light.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Nineteen: (Nightmare)**

**(The year: 1872)**

_Erik walked back to his lair, back to his music, leaving Christine to rest. A smile drew on his face as he remembered the time he had spent with her earlier that day._

_He had shown Christine the land that he had bought, the land which would hold their house. He could still see the sparkles in her eyes as they gleamed with joy and disbelief. He could still feel her warm smile as she looked up at him and kissed him. He could still see them standing there in awe before that site that seemed more like heaven, as he held Christine close to him. Both were lost in the serenity of it all._

_It was the first time that Erik had dared to go out into the world of light. Although people stared at him, he didn't care. He had Christine by his side and that was all that mattered to him. She was the light; she was his salvation. Standing there before that land, Erik had shown her the designs of the house that he had drawn that would soon start to become a reality. The dream house he had designed for Christine and himself to live in._

_It was all too real and for the first time in his life, Erik couldn't stop smiling._

"_Perhaps there is a happily ever after, after all," he thought to himself as he walked back down deeper and deeper into the darkness of his lair, only this time the darkness seemed so unbearable and cold to him._

_Yet, to some part of himself, the darkness was still home._

_As he walked down the rusty, dark old passageways, he could sense that he wasn't alone._

_His senses told him that he was being watched. For a split second, he thought he caught a glimpse of a shadow._

_Erik's eyes narrowed in keen observation. He looked around for a minute. He was not afraid, just curious and amused._

_He really wanted to know who it was, who was following or watching him. _

"_Someone certainly does have a death wish," he thought to himself._

_When Erik reached his lair, the presence became stronger and he knew for sure that someone was in his lair._

_Erik grabbed his Punjab lasso as he suddenly caught a glimpse of a shadow being reflected by the candlelight, behind one of the curtains of his lair._

_Erik just watched. The shadow moved with swiftness and grace. Suddenly, Erik heard his name being called like an echo, "Erik."_

"_Who's there? Show yourself!" Erik replied with a snarl on his face._

_"It's me. Don't you remember me?" the shadow replied in amusement. _

_Erik's glance was fierce as he watched the shadow moving. _

_"I'm afraid not," Erik hissed._

_"Well, well, well. It's such a shame that you don't remember me. Even Christine would have recognized me," the shadow hissed back. _

_"You leave Christine out of this. Don't you ever mention her name again. Do you hear me! Unless you're suicidal!" Erik threatened._

_The shadow laughed as if he were thoroughly entertained by it all as he replied in disgust, "Look at you, all soft and gentle now? Going out to the light and embracing it! That's hilarious! What happened to the strong Erik? What happened to that murderous rage you had, that power that got you respect and gave you ultimate control? People feared you back then and respected you." _

_The shadow continued but in a calmer more victorious tone. " Take Christine, for example. How long do you think she will keep your secret?" _

_Erik's heart trembled at the thought. As much as he hated to admit it, the shadow was right. The shadow stood still for a few moments, silent and motionless, as if he were observing Erik's reaction to his words. After a few moments of observation, the shadow continued victoriously. He was about to hit the final nail into Erik's heart. _

"_She betrayed you once. What makes you think she won't betray you again?" the shadow asked deviously. _

_Erik's gaze of steel melted into a glow of agony for an instant. The shadow was getting to him, so much so that it left Erik highly uncomfortable. But the shadow, in return, was more than satisfied and pleased by the reaction his words were causing._

" _And those two fools who run this theater, our theater-" the shadow went on._

"_Our theater! It's my theater, my Opera House!" Erik exclaimed, interrupting the un-welcome visitor. His voice rose with anger and his sad gaze suddenly turned to a blazing stare of rage._

_The shadow laughed again. This time, it was a loud, chilling, maniacal laugh, a laugh that reminded Erik of a part of himself that he wanted to get rid of._

_It reminded Erik of his dark side._

_Erik's eyes widened at the sound of that laugh, that laugh that brought all the unpleasant memories of his life back to the shores of his heart. Erik felt the rage building up inside of him again. _

_His dark side was taking over once more._

"_My patience is wearing thin. You may think you know me but you don't. You really don't want to see me angry. Your life depends on it!" Erik hissed menacingly._

"_Oh, Erik, dear Erik, I know you. I know you all too well. I know you better than you know yourself. And you can never kill me," the shadow answered in great amusement._

_Erik chuckled. "Oh, believe me, that can be arranged!" _

"_No, it can't," the shadow replied calmly and confidently._

"_Who are you?" Erik asked with a rising surge of curiosity and a great sense of irritation. _

_The shadow stopped moving behind the curtains as he chuckled. "Well, if you must know..."_

_Erik's eyes grew wider and his jaw dropped as the shadow walked out from behind the curtains. He was wearing a black cloak and a white half mask covered the right side of his face. Erik could see the shadow very clearly now. To his horror, the shadow looked just like him. _

_It was as if Erik were looking at a mirror._

_And two ghosts stood face to face. _

"_I am you," the shadow replied._

Erik's eyes snapped open. He lay awake in bed; darkness surrounded him, slightly colored by the dim light of the moon. His breath was heavy and he could feel beads of sweat on his forehead as his hand moved instinctively to wipe them away.

He impulsively wanted to get up but he noticed that Christine was still sleeping in his arms. She looked like an angel.

"_It was just a nightmare,"_ Erik thought to himself.

Staring at his trembling hands for a moment, Erik was very annoyed. Nothing had shaken him like this before. Erik found it completely ridiculous that a nightmare would affect him like this.

He was strong and composed and yet this nightmare had left him cold and slightly trembling.

Erik moved ever so gently underneath the covers as he broke free from Christine's body and arms. He gently readjusted the soft white silk covers over Christine's body and kissed her on the forehead, leaving a blood red rose by her side.

He swiftly put on his clothes.

Erik pushed his raven hair back with his hands. Turning to leave, Erik caught his reflection in the mirror. A sigh escaped his lips. His masked face stared back at him…his cursed face.

He looked at his reflection for a few minutes, pain cutting through him like a knife. Erik swiftly shook those feelings away. He wasn't going to allow himself to surrender to those nightmare feelings anymore.

He opened the mirror passageway and, in silent thought, walked back down to his lair. Sitting at his piano, Erik found himself unable to concentrate or compose anything. That night was supposed to be a happy night because he had gotten back together with Christine. Now, all he could think about was the nightmare.

First, there was the strange part of that nightmare. Erik could only imagine himself walking with Christine on the streets of Paris during the daytime. _What a fantasy!_

Then there was the horrific part of that nightmare, the part that had shaken Erik to his core, the part where he had come face to face with himself.

Erik still trembled at the memory of that scene.

"_What a strange nightmare,"_ he thought to himself as he instinctively closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to regain his focus.

Just like that, his fingers slid gracefully against the soft keys of his piano. He started to play. Enchanting tunes filled his lair and echoed in the walls of the silent Opera House. And no nightmare could interrupt the wonder of the music.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty: (Hope)**

Christine opened her eyes to frantic knocks on her door.

She yawned and stretched as she called out, "I'm coming. I'm coming."

Silently she mumbled to herself in irritation. It was five in the morning and she could still get two more good hours of sleep since rehearsals didn't start till eight.

Christine pulled herself up from the bed. The red rose fell to the ground and caught her attention. She lifted it up in her hands and smiled as she hid it in one of the drawers of her vanity table.

The knocking continued.

"Christine! Open this door right now!" Madame Giry ordered.

"Just one minute!"

Christine put on her robe and opened the door. Madame Giry looked frantic.

"Meg is not in her room. I thought she might be with you," Madame said.

"No… No, Meg did not come here," Christine replied worriedly.

Madame Giry buried her face in her hands for a moment. She took a deep breath and then looked back up at Christine, her stern eyes filled with anxiety.

"Where can she be?" Madame exclaimed desperately.

Christine could see the fear and the worry in Madame Giry's usually cold demeanor. Christine herself felt a rush of fear leap to her heart.

"M-maybe she's in the theater?" Christine whispered while biting her lower lip and hoping against hope that her assumption was correct.

Madame Giry looked confused.

"Why would she be in the theater? And now?"

Madame sighed and continued in defeat, her voice wavering a little, "But I'll go check there. Maybe you're right…God… I hope you're right, Christine."

"I'll come with you," Christine said.

There she was, twirling around, dancing like an angel, to the distant melodies that were being echoed in the silence of the Opera House. She looked like a vision in the dark, swaying to the tunes of a ghost, on that vast, luxurious, empty stage, a beautiful maiden, bathed by the dim light of the blooming dawn.

Madame Giry's face relaxed and lit up. She let out a sigh of relief. A smile graced Christine's face at the sight of her friend. She had been so worried for her these past two weeks. Now it seemed as if the nightmare was over.

Madame Giry walked up to Meg and said with a frown on her face, "Ma Cherie, what are you doing? The doctor said that you need more rest."

"I'm fine, Maman. I've had enough rest to last me a lifetime. I want to dance," Meg replied with a smile.

Meg twirled happily as she continued with glee, "I just want to dance."

She moved past her mother, looking at Christine for a split second, before twirling away from her.

"Good morning, Christine!" Meg said casually.

Christine chuckled and replied, "Good morning, Meg."

Madame Giry smiled, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears, while watching her daughter. She had recovered at last; her daughter was back. Meg was completely out of her shocked state now and Madame Giry's heart was overwhelmed with joy. Those past two weeks had been hell for her, although she had always tried to put on a strong front.

Those past two weeks had been hell on all of them as each had battled with their own demons.

Madame Giry looked at Christine.

"I'm sorry, my dear, if I woke you. It's just that, when I didn't find Meg in her room, I panicked and thought that maybe she would be with you, since you two are the best of friends," Madame said apologetically.

Christine smiled.

"It's fine, Madame. There's no need to apologize," she replied softly.

Madame Giry stood there for a few more minutes watching. Meg swayed and twirled in complete harmony with the music, the soft edges of her thin nightgown flowing ever so gracefully around her ankles.

All three women knew the source of those ethereal tunes that echoed ever so gently all around them.

With a smile, Christine walked up to Meg and held her hand, joining in the dance as both girls giggled and twirled ever so gracefully and beautifully.

They danced in their nightgowns, just like the old days, the days of chorus girls and ballet rats, when both women were not stars but dreaming children… they would sneak out at the early hours of dawn, two innocent little girls, to dance to the soft rays of the light in silent welcome to the day.

Without warning, Madame Giry joined in as well, dancing as she used to do, once upon a time, a long time ago, before the knee injury that had caused her to be content with the role of ballet instructor instead of Prima Ballerina.

The three of them smiled widely and swayed gracefully to the music that Erik was playing.

They embraced the dawn and danced to its tunes… the tunes of hope.

Erik played and played throughout the dawn. He felt the gentle light gleaming inside his tired soul, beaming with hope of a future and a lifetime of love. 

The music was the cure.

It was healing him and raising him from the pits of darkness and into the arms of the light, just as it had healed Meg, Madame Giry, and Christine.

Erik played, not knowing that the three women he cared most for were dancing to his tunes, feeling happy and peaceful beyond words.

Erik played and played as his soul soared with every note.

And they danced to the music as they welcomed the dawn into their lives.

That day was a new beginning for Erik, Christine, Madame Giry and Meg. Hope filled their tired souls and shone through the darkened skies.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Six in the morning, Christine walked back to her room, leaving Madame Giry and Meg to embrace after their long dance of hope, peace and joy was over.

Christine opened the door to her room and walked in, a bright smile drawn on her face.

As she turned around to go take a bath, something caught her attention. Christine saw a big square-shaped package placed gently by the wall just underneath the window. She walked cautiously and curiously toward it. A small white envelope was placed on top of the package.

She raised the white envelope in her hands; it was not sealed. Three words were written on the outside: _"To my angel"  
_  
She took out the paper from inside the envelope, ever so gently and carefully, and began to read.

"_This is why I was late last night. You looked so beautiful._

_I remain your obedient servant, Erik" _

This time Erik had not signed it with his usual O.G initials. No, with Christine, he was just Erik.

Christine carried the package and softly laid it on the bed. Then she opened it enthusiastically.

There it was - a beautiful painting of her sitting by her vanity table, wearing the blue nightgown, when she had waited for Erik the night before. 

Erik had captured her essence as she had stared at the mirror of her vanity, her brown curly hair falling gracefully over her shoulders. Her eyes had a gleam in them. At the bottom of the painting, written with golden letters, were the words: _"Goddess of beauty, my angel, my Christine"  
_  
Christine's heart fluttered with joy, words could not express how much that painting meant to her.

Yes, to her that painting was the best gift she had ever received from anyone; its worth was priceless. Christine put the portrait in her closet, in a safe place where nothing could harm it.

Silently, she imagined that portrait hanging in their new home, in their room, an eternal token of love.

Christine sighed dreamily.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"_It's amazing, isn't it? How hope seems to spring out of nowhere, to fill one's soul with beauty and joy. _

_Hope filled me that day…that night. _

_I had thought that I had lost Erik once again. But he came back to me, and out of the darkness of his being, after two long, torturous weeks. That night he had restored my hope, my joy, my peace, my existence. _

_Madame Giry had thought that she had lost her daughter. But that night, Meg was healed as well. _

_Yes, hope bloomed once again… Hope, born of a tune… Hope, cradled in a dance… Hope, kissed by a portrait…"_

Christine's diary


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-One: (The Calm before the Storm)**

"_Those were the best days of my life. Erik and I would sneak around, even sometimes during rehearsals, just for a quick kiss or one touch or one whisper of love. And at night, we would go up to the roof, where we would watch the beautiful, silent night sky that sparkled with uncountable stars, only to go back down to my room or to his lair to make passionate love, or just cuddle and sleep in each others arms. _

_Sometimes we would even watch the glory of the dawn and stand in awe before the majesty of the horizon._

_I can still remember Erik's words to me, the first time we watched the horizon. He gently turned my face toward his and whispered lovingly, "We are the horizon," and I understood what he meant by it. _

_Yes, we were the horizon. He was the night and I was the day and together we created the horizon._

_Erik and I did not talk a lot, but there was a silent understanding between us. He wasn't the talkative type, but whenever I ranted he would listen patiently. It was as if he knew my mind._

_Among the many gifts I got from him, I guess the greatest was the gift of his love. And yet no matter how hard I tried, Erik never really opened up to me. He never allowed me to remove his mask. _

_But still I loved him, like I loved no other. I was an open book, and he was a mystery. Yet, when looking into his eyes, I could sometimes see all the pain of the world, and sometimes I would see joy and peace! But most of the time, his eyes where two beautiful, dangerous, mysterious, blazing pits that held endless secrets._

_He often told me that I was the light in his darkened sky. _

_It's amazing- I can hear his voice as if he were still whispering to me right now._

_Ah, those days! I will never forget them despite all the bad gossip that went around in the Opera House about me during those times. I knew that in their stories, I was turned into some whore but I didn't care. I was happy beyond words, beyond description and beyond logic, and that's all that mattered to me. _

_Those days! Their memory will always burn inside my heart and soul. I lived four weeks, four weeks of paradise. Those were the most beautiful days of my life._

_But everything changed when I was paid an unexpected visit on June 4, 1872, the day that turned my life upside down all over again._

_The calm before the storm…"_

Christine's diary

x-x-x-x-x-x

(June 4, 1872)

It was a glorious morning. Christine and Erik were taking a bath together in the lake by his lair.

Erik was massaging Christine's shoulders and back, gently rubbing her shoulders, in that peaceful silence.

"Love, I need to talk to you about something," Erik hesitantly said.

Christine's head was tilted backwards. She sighed at the wonder of his touch on her skin and the comfort his massaging was bringing her.

"Yes, what is it, darling," she answered softly.

Erik stopped massaging her and turned her around toward him. He looked deeply into her big chocolate eyes.

"I was thinking about the future, and-"

He took a deep breath and continued with a slight nervousness in his otherwise very controlled voice, "Well, I was thinking that maybe we could leave this place and start our lives together someplace where no one else knows us."

The curious look in Christine's eyes now turned to ecstatic joy.

"I was waiting for you to say something about that! So, where do you think we should go?" she exclaimed gaily.

Erik smiled at the sight of her.

"Well, I was thinking Italy, since there's a big need for architects over there, so I could find a job very easily."

He looked at her in anticipation, while waiting for her reply.

Christine looked deep into his beautiful blazing eyes. It was one of those rare moments, when Christine could actually read his eyes. She could see the joy and the anticipation burning in them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her bare body against his.

"I don't care where you take me, angel, as long as I'm with you," she whispered lovingly in his ear.

Erik wrapped his arms around her bare waist. Their lips locked with fire and passion. Christine moaned with pleasure. Their lips burned with lust and want. Their tongues tasted the sweetness of each other. In the heat of the moment, Christine pulled her mouth away from his and started kissing him passionately on the neck. Erik closed his eyes and slightly tilted his head backward as he let out a low moan of pleasure.

He could feel the heat of her mouth on his skin and it drove him crazy. He fiercely grabbed her face and raised it back up toward his. He consumed her with his kisses once more, claiming her lips as his own.

After a few minutes of passionate, gentle and yet savage kissing, Christine pulled away.

"Rehearsals…Erik!" she whispered, her voice hoarse with passion.

"Damn rehearsals!" Erik replied passionately.

He drew her closer to him and they started kissing again.

Erik carried her out of the water and to the bed.

"But then again, I could be late to rehearsal, just one more time," Christine whispered playfully.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Late again," Madame Giry scolded.

She shot Christine a stern but amused look and Christine blushed fiercely in return.

Christine was floating on a cloud all through rehearsal. It was obvious, even to the blind, that she was madly in love. That smile could not be removed from her face.

The only two other people who knew her secret were Meg and Madame Giry.

Meg's view of the Phantom, of Erik, had changed drastically after the accident. Now she felt as if she had misjudged him. After all, he had saved her life. During those two weeks when she had been in a terrible state, it was his voice that had saved her. He would always sing her to sleep during those ruthless nights of restlessness and torment, after her horrific experience with Pierre. Meg knew that she could never repay his kindness.

Now, when she heard the girls making up stories about the Opera Ghost, instead of joining in, Meg would defend him against the gossip.

No one knew what really happened to Meg that night, except for Madame Giry, Christine, and Erik.

Madame Giry, in turn, had a peaceful look in her eyes. She was ecstatic that she had her daughter back. She was happy that Erik, this lonely tortured soul, had found some happiness at last. She could never repay him for protecting her daughter the way he did.

Madame Giry was eternally grateful to Erik.

x-x-x-x-x-x

And they rehearsed.

Christine sang, Meg danced, and Madame gave out instructions to the ballerinas as she brought her cane firmly to the ground. Some dancers were a pain to watch, leaving Madame Giry exasperated, and some were just a joy to watch.

Christine was rehearsing her part while Meg was leading the dance when someone unexpected showed up. Monsieur Phillipe De Chagny, Raoul's father, took a seat, watching the rehearsals and waiting.

Christine stopped singing. Her heart skipped a beat. She swiftly excused herself and Monsieur Reyer nodded in reply. She left the stage and walked toward Monsieur De Chagny.

Christine approached him with cautious steps. Her heart started beating. Memories of Raoul flooded her soul. Fear crept through her heart, for why would Raoul's father come to her, especially now, after she had gotten a divorce? What did he want?

Christine managed to put a smile on her face as she curtsied.

"Monsieur De Chagny," she greeted him curtly but pleasantly.

Monsieur De Chagny had risen from his chair now. He took Christine's hand in his and kissed it.

"We need to talk," he stated.

There was a sadness in his voice that was obvious to Christine.

"Of course," Christine replied with a fake smile.

Her entire being trembled. She could see that Raoul's father did not look happy.

Monsieur De Chagny looked around for a moment.

"I was wondering if we could find a more appropriate place, a more private place to talk," he said hesitantly.

Christine nodded as she suggested, "We could go back stage."

"No," Monsieur De Chagny exclaimed nervously. Then he asked with a softer tone, "Would you allow me to invite you to lunch?"

After a moment of hesitation, Christine slowly replied, "Uh, well… all right."

"My carriage will be outside. I'll wait for you."

Monsieur De Chagny smiled contentedly.

Christine turned around to go change. A feeling swept through her being, a dreadful feeling that she could not ignore… the feeling that something terrible was about to happen… the feeling that she and Erik would not be together anymore… that eerie feeling of the calm before the storm.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty Two: (The Storm)**

The streets of Paris were noisy but Christine did not hear a single sound. She walked among the crowds and yet felt so utterly alone. She saw the rays of light burning from the sun and yet felt so cold. The cool breeze caressed her pale wet cheeks and embraced her trembling body, yet she felt no calm. All she felt was torment…a trembling leaf caught in the ruthless storm.

Christine was walking back to the Opera House after refusing a carriage ride. What she had discovered had left her numb. She still couldn't believe it. She needed the fresh air.She needed to think but most importantly, she needed to focus. Yet all she could do was cry.

How she wished that she had never had lunch with the old man. Now all Christine wanted to do was lay her head down and die.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Madame Giry had a very uneasy feeling.

Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre were paid an unexpected visit by the new head of the police department, accompanied by none other than the patron, Monsieur Pierre Richard, who had recovered and was now wearing a mask.

Madame Giry's heart missed another beat.

When the meeting was over and the unwelcome visitors had left, Madame entered the managers' office, her presence never faltering, her elegant long black dress, her beautifully braided black hair raised up like a crown on her head. Madame Giry had a certain beauty to her, an unexplainable ambience.

Eyeing the managers with her stern eyes, she asked with her firm yet gentle voice, "What did this new Monsieur-"

She looked at both men, waiting for them to tell her his name.

"Monsieur Bernard Frankoe," Monsieur Andre clarified.

Madame Giry nodded and then continued, "Yes, what did this Monsieur Bernard Frankoe want? And why was he accompanied by that bastard, Richard?"

Madame spat out, unable to control her anger.

"Well," Monsieur Firmin replied cautiously, "it seems, Madame, that the Phantom's case has been reopened."

"But the previous head of the police department announced that the case was closed only a few months after the burning of the Opera House. Erik is dead according to their records!" Madame Giry exclaimed.

"Yes, that may be. But now the police department has a new head. He is being financed by Monsieur Pierre Richard, who we all know will not rest until he takes his revenge on Erik," Monsieur Firmin replied in a matter of fact tone.

"And can you blame the man for hating the Phantom. I mean, just look what the Phantom did to him!" Monsieur Andre added.

"That bastard, Pierre Richard, I am going to rip his heart out!" Madame Giry replied furiously.

Both Monsieur Andre and Firmin were taken aback by Madame's intense reaction and obvious hatred for the man.

Madame took a deep breath, realizing that she had lost control over her emotions for a moment. After she had regained her calm demeanor, Madame gracefully turned around to leave.

As she reached the door, she turned back to face the managers.

"Gentlemen, you should have learned your lesson by now. It is not wise to double-cross the Phantom. The price of that can be deadly," she said warningly.

She shot them one final piercing look and left.

Monsieur Firmin abruptly turned to Monsieur Andre and said, "You do know she's right. We will not interfere in this. If the police department wants to investigate, then let them, but we will keep our mouths shut. Andre, we do not need this now."

Andre shook his head in fervent agreement. Fear crept through him as well.

Walking down the halls of the magnificent Opera House, Madame Giry knew that she had to find Erik, to warn him. At the same time, she knew that she had to wait until the end of the day, because right now she was needed in rehearsal. She would raise suspicions if she were to disappear abruptly.

"_And the storm begins,"_ Madame Giry thought knowingly.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine walked the streets of Paris. Her eyes were blood shot and not focused. Tears flowed down her drained cheeks like waterfalls. Her face was pale, as pale as death, and her entire body was shaking.

All Christine could think about was her conversation with Monsieur De Chagny. She could still hear his words…those tormenting words…

"_The only reason Raoul left you was because, that morning when you went to rest and change, the doctor came and Raoul found out that he was paralyzed. He can not walk. These past few months have been absolute hell for him. He has suffered from severe depression and he is still suffering. He loves you so much that he let you go. He did not want you to spend your life with him out of pity. He did not want you to live with a paralyzed man, like himself. He hoped that maybe you could find true happiness with a normal man."_

_Christine's entire being froze, as she realized how big a sacrifice Raoul had made for her sake. And guilt, severe guilt, ripped her soul apart._

"_But he signed the divorce papers Monsieur De Chagny, and now I'm ma-" _

_Christine had tried to argue, still unable to believe what Monsieur De Chagny had told her._

"_What divorce papers! We never received any letter from you. Raoul never signed any divorce papers. You are still his wife!" Monsieur De Chagny had exclaimed, cutting through Christine's sentence._

_Christine's jaw dropped. The entire world around her froze and sounds became distant for an instant. _

"_Christine, are you all right?" Monsieur De Chagny exclaimed with concern._

_She nodded, unable to speak from the shock. _

"_The reason I am here today is because the doctor gave us hope that Raoul might be able to walk again. But he has to go through hard, strenuous exercises. The process is long and painful. Raoul needs motivation; he needs you beside him; he needs emotional support," Monsieur De Chagny continued._

_Phillipe then took a deep breath, before he went on, " If he knew that I were here today talking to you, he would probably never speak to me again. But I know where my son's true happiness lies. And whether his mother and I like it or not, his happiness lies with you. You are a major part of his cure."_

_Christine's entire body had shaken so violently that she thought she would die, and Monsieur De Chagny that she would faint for a moment, until she calmed down._

"_I have to go. I need to think," Christine had said abruptly. _

_She swiftly rose to leave. _

"_Let me take you back to the Opera House," Monsieur De Chagny offered._

"_No, I need to walk. That way I can think," was Christine's cold, firm reply. _

"_You are his wife, Christine. There is nothing to think about," Monsieur De Chagny stated knowingly._

_Christine had nodded, her eyes blank of any emotion, her face void of any expression, her mind still trying to comprehend all that she had learned._

Walking down the streets of Paris, she cried and cried. People passing her by on the sidewalk would look at her in a curious manner but none approached her or tried to help her.

Consumed by the fires of her thoughts and the torture of the truth she had just found out, Christine suddenly felt her legs give way beneath her. She fell to the ground, her blue dress floating around her as she collapsed on the street. And darkness began to surround her.

The voice of DeChagny still rang in her mind and echoed inside the confines of her broken heart, tearing through her exhausted soul.

"_Raoul paralyzed…you are still his wife…no divorce papers were signed by Raoul… we received no letter from you…he needs you…Raoul needs you." _

The voice was becoming more distant now. All the torturing thoughts were becoming dormant. Peace started to take over Christine.

"_I want to die…Oh God, please let me die…give me peace."_

And then, complete darkness. No more thought, no more pain, no more torment… only peace…a shelter from the storm.

But the storm had only just begun…


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty Three: (Choices)**

"Where is Christine?" Madame Giry asked her daughter.

"Monsieur De Chagny came to see her and she left with him. I don't know where they went," Meg replied.

"Do you mean Raoul?"

"No, Maman, I mean Raoul's father," Meg retorted.

Madame Giry frowned and then replied, "Never mind then. Go on with your practice, Ma Cherie."

x-x-x-x-x-x

By the end of the day, when rehearsal was over and Christine hadn't returned yet, Meg and Madame Giry started to get really worried. Monsieur Firmin, Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Reyer became very concerned because the show, after all, depended on Christine. And the ballet rats started to gossip again.

Erik paced back and forth in his lair like a caged lion, restlessness taking control of him. His heart was beating like a drum. He had never, in all his life, been this worried. He was always the fearless one. And yet now, he was so afraid - and not for himself. The patron and the new head of the police department were the least of his worries. He didn't even care that his case was reopened. All he wanted was to know where Christine had gone, and if she were fine.

He had gone up to the Opera House earlier in the afternoon to watch the rehearsals from his box, Box Five, but she wasn't there. He had also seen the new head of the police department and he had seen Pierre Richard accompanying him. All that didn't matter to him. All he could think about was Christine.

Erik couldn't take it anymore. He had to talk to Madame Giry. Perhaps she knew where Christine had gone.

He walked through the mirror passage way and into Christine's room. There, he noticed a letter on Christine's vanity table. His name was written on it. He directly raised it up in his hands and opened it.

"_Your case has been reopened… new head of police department… being financed by Pierre Richard… Christine left with Monsieur Phillipe De Chagny, Raoul's father, at lunch time today… be careful."  
_  
Christine's bedroom door was locked and Erik knew that Madame Giry had left this note for him, since she was the only one who had the keys to the rooms of the girls. Erik felt his blood begin to race, his stomach tighten. He felt very nervous. Now he understood what it meant to worry about someone you cared so deeply about. Now he knew the feeling, the anxiety, and the fear that came with it.

Before, he feared nothing; but now, he, the Ghost, found himself frightened of the unknown as he silently prayed that Christine would be fine.

x-x-x-x-x-x

In the dead of night, a shadow riding a horse sped through the dark, cold, empty streets of Paris.

"_Christine, my love, where are you?...I lost you once. I will not lose you again." _

Tonight the De Chagny's were about to be paid a visit, an unexpected visit, from the Phantom.

The ghost moved swiftly under the veil of the night, beneath the silent eyes of the stars and the gentle gaze of the moon. The dark and the mist were his only companions as he made his way to his destination. No matter what, he was going to get his angel back.

_Choices…deadly choices…_

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine opened her eyes to find herself in a wide, comfortable bed. She sat up straight and looked around in shock. She wasn't in the Opera House nor was she on the street where she had fainted nor was she in the De Chagny estate. She was in a place she didn't know, in a luxurious room, where the walls were covered in paintings and portraits. There was a fireplace in the room as well.

Christine got up slowly from bed, still dizzy and frail, her brown hair all tangled and messy, her blue dress dirty from her fall in the street and torn a little. Christine wore the slippers that were placed by her bed and walked out of the room, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Down the magnificent halls of that peculiar yet luxurious house she walked, slowly observing every corner of it. The halls were covered with portraits of tragic beauty, causing an eerie feel to float all around. One of the portraits stood out among the others in its haunting beauty and caught Christine's attention. _It was_ _a portrait of a little child crying by a stream. The crystal tears of that brown-eyed little boy seemed to roll down his cheeks and merge with the pure waters of the stream, creating an eternal union of silent pain_. Christine stood before that picture staring in awe.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" a voice from behind her said, startling her.

Christine swiftly turned around, only to be faced by a masked man in elegant clothes. His brown eyes were cold and cruel from behind his black mask. His sandy blond hair was brushed perfectly.

Christine gasped as she moved backward away from him upon recognizing who it was.

"Come, my dear, there's no need to be afraid of me. After all, your lover is a man who's done worse things."

Christine felt her cheeks burning in rage. She opened her mouth to reply but decided against it, in fear. If she were going to leave that place, she would have to act very wisely.

Ignoring his statement, she asked calmly but firmly, "How long have I been here? … What happened to me?"

"It seems you fainted on the street and when my carriage was passing by, I saw you. I couldn't leave a lady like you on the street now, could I?" Sarcasm was dripping from his tongue.

He was mocking her and Christine wanted to strangle him.

Instead, Christine found herself grow weaker by the minute. She felt her knees give way beneath her again. Pierre caught her before she fell and led her back to the room, all the while feeling her stiffen with disgust under his touch. Christine sat in the chair by the fireplace, her hand on her heart. She was still very weak.

Pierre walked over to the window and stared out into the quiet night, sensing her fear of him.

"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you," he stated casually.

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe!" Christine spat out.

"Why?" Pierre replied sarcastically. "Because Meg told you her little tale about how I tried to rape her?"

"Yes," Christine said angrily.

"Well, my dear, think about it. I'm a rich man, a very rich man, I could have any woman I want. Why would I risk my reputation and my status in society by raping a girl whom I could have had at any time," he retorted coolly.

"And you expect me to believe you? How stupid do you think I am!" she exclaimed in outrage.

"I may be whatever you want to call me, but no matter what I am, at least I am not a murderer, like your lover."

Christine's eyes shot up at him. _"Does he know about Erik and I?"_ She trembled at the thought.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, trying to hide her shock.

Pierre laughed loudly.

"You do amuse me, girl. Indeed, you do."

He moved toward her and put his hands on the arms of the chair she was sitting in. He looked deep into her eyes, his face threatening mere inches away from hers. Christine couldn't breathe for a few moments as she stared at his eyes… eyes that were filled with hate.

"Let's get straight to the point, shall we? I know about you and Erik. Isn't that his name? Or do you prefer, angel of music?" he mocked.

A tear fell from Christine's eyes. She turned away from him but he grabbed her face and raised it violently back up to him, clenching her jaw and cheeks tightly with his hand, and looked right into her eyes.

"You'll look at me when I'm talking to you!" he seethed as she gasped in pain.

His grip was too tight. Christine thought her jaw would crack.

"Did you know that your beloved Erik killed my father? Hmm? ...Did you?"

His voice was getting louder and angrier as his grip got tighter.

Christine's tears were falling down on his fingers now. She let out a scream of pain as she struggled under his deadly grip.

"Yes, Christine, I may be a lot of things but I am not a murderer, not yet, for I will kill him when I get the chance," he continued.

Pierre's voice was filled with hate and rage.

Christine didn't utter a word, not under that cutting pain she felt in Pierre's grasp. But just as suddenly as he had grabbed her face, he removed his hand and walked away from her and looked out the window.

Christine's hands instinctively flew up to her jaw and cheeks as she massaged her face frantically. The area around her mouth was starting to become swollen and blue.

But physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional pain she was feeling.

"I don't believe you," Christine managed to whisper in reply after a few minutes, when she was able to speak.

"You don't have to believe me. You just have to use your brain - that is, if you have one."

Christine's eyes blazed with anger; he was mocking her again.

"Why do you think I agreed to become the new patron of the Opera Populaire? Everyone knows it's a very risky investment. No good businessman would agree to become the patron of that Opera House, not after it got burnt down. I have been tracking your beloved Erik for years now. I knew that he couldn't possibly be dead. He's too smart. I knew that he had escaped after you betrayed him."

At the mention of the betrayal, a wide smile drew on his face and Pierre continued, highly amused, "Although, my dear, I feel obliged to congratulate you on a job well done. You did a great service to me without even knowing it. Oh, how I enjoyed reading about what had happened in the news papers, knowing all the pain that he must have felt."

Christine's eyes welled up with tears at the mention of that torturous memory which she so longed to forget.

"Damn you," she spat out.

Pierre smiled victoriously, his voice seething with the pleasure of knowing that every word he said was getting to her.

"Now, where was I?"

His voice beaming with cruel amusement, he continued after a moment.

"Oh, yes. I knew that he couldn't possibly be dead. He's too smart. I knew he had escaped and that's why I came back to the Opera Populaire. That's why I invested my money in it. I wanted vengeance. That's why I went out with Meg. I knew that he cared about her and her mother. I wanted to destroy everything that he cared about, just as he had taken my family away from me. No, Christine, I'm not a rapist. I'm just an angry man searching for revenge. And now your beloved has given me another reason to hate him."

Suddenly, he walked toward her again and Christine gasped in terror, afraid that he was going to hurt her as he had a little while ago. But reaching to where Christine was sitting frozen in her seat with fear, he hissed with all the hatred and the bitterness he felt inside, "This!"

He swiftly tore his mask off. Christine gasped as she saw the two big scars on both sides of his face.

"This is your beloved's work of art," Pierre roared.

He moved closer to her and grabbed her face again, lifting her slightly from the chair. Christine screamed and struggled against his grip, the pain cutting through her bones. Without warning, he let her go again. She fell down off the chair and sank to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

Pierre stood above her, looking down at her shaking body, his breathing heavy with anguish and hate. After a few moments, when he had regained his composure, he put his mask on again.

He walked back toward the window and looked outside into the darkness, not saying a word. The silence was nerve wrecking to Christine. She rose from the floor where she had collapsed and wiped away her tears.

Christine stood up, determination and courage burning in her eyes as she gathered all her strength.

"I want to go back to the Opera House. If you don't return me at once, they'll start looking for me and that would be fatal to your little plan, whatever it is," she demanded.

Pierre laughed as he turned around to face her.

"Oh, so now you're concerned about my plan, are you? Well, don't worry. So far, it's going just perfectly," he replied sarcastically.

Pierre swiftly approached her again.

"Now, let's get straight to the point. You, my dear, are going to go back to the Opera House and you are going to lead me straight to Erik," he ordered.

"Never!" Christine replied angrily and firmly. "I will never betray him… never again!"

Christine stood strong and tall before his intimidating, menacing presence, clinging so desperately to every ounce of strength that she had. She would fight this time; she would fight for Erik and she would fight for their love. Christine had decided that she would never repeat the same mistakes of the past when she had allowed others to push her around…when she had allowed her fear to control her.

They stood face to face.

"Never is a strong word my dear. I'm not sure that you can afford it, right now," Pierre replied deviously.

Christine hissed back, her eyes burning through his, "Yes, I can."

"Really?" he retorted as he continued confidently. "Well. There are two ways for me to do this. The police will either invade the Opera House and search every last inch of it until they catch Erik while you, Madame Giry and Meg will be considered his accomplices and you'll all be taken to jail together… how charming. Can you imagine, Madame Giry and her daughter being repaid for their kindness toward you and Erik by going to jail?" he smirked.

"Or," he continued smilingly, "you could help me."

"Not to mention, that you're expecting," Pierre added.

Christine's confident, strong façade seemed to crumble down in an instant. Her heart was left defenseless against Pierre's words now. A look of shock formed in her beautiful brown eyes and her face turned ashen.

"W-what?" she hesitantly stuttered.

Pierre moved closer to her, thoroughly satisfied by the effects his words were having over her.

"You're going to be a mommy," Pierre said mockingly.

"A-and how would you know if I'm pregnant or not?"

"The doctor who examined you told me," Pierre retorted as he moved away from her again.

He sat in the chair by the fireplace, a wide triumphant smile playing on his face.

Christine stood still, frozen in her place with her eyes tightly shut. She so desperately wished she could erase what was happening with that small action… that she could block out everything he was telling her with that small movement…that she could turn back time by closing her eyes.

"You wouldn't want to give birth in prison now, would you? And I can only imagine the hardships that this innocent child will go through, growing up all alone on the streets or in an orphanage, despised by society. That would be too bad. You of all people should know what it's like, to grow up without parents," Pierre added with great pleasure.

"I don't believe you. I'm not pregnant."

"_Who am I really trying to convince, him or me?" _Christine thought in horror as she remembered that her period had been late for two weeks now. That could only mean one thing. Christine opened her eyes, surrendering to reality, knowing that there was no escape from this nightmare.

"Suit yourself, if you're willing to take that risk," Pierre retorted.

He rose from the chair and started circling her, like a hawk circles its prey before attacking.

He continued calmly, "But what if I'm telling the truth? Will you be willing to risk that and condemn this innocent child to a cruel life?"

A woman's instinct can never be wrong. At that moment, Christine knew that she was pregnant. She was carrying Erik's child. That event was supposed to be a joyous event, but now, it seemed like a nightmare, especially because she knew what Pierre was going to ask her next.

She had always thought that the choice between Erik and Raoul was the hardest choice she would ever face. But now, that choice seemed so simple, compared to the choice she knew she would soon be forced to make.

A few moments of deafening silence passed by, before Pierre went on to say, "But, if you're willing to help me, then only Erik will be arrested. And all the other misfortunes won't happen."

"And why should I trust you?" Christine exclaimed in frustration, her eyes rising to meet his.

"Because," he replied smoothly as he stopped circling her and looked deep into her eyes, "you don't have any other choice. If you help the police catch Erik, no one can say that you are his accomplice. Simple as that."

Christine was trying to stop her body from shaking now. Her eyes were moist and her breathing was becoming increasingly slow and labored by the minute. And her heart was beating so loudly.

"So, Christine, who is it going to be? Who are you going to save?"

Pierre knew that he had her in his grip now.

He looked her in the eyes as he deviously continued, "The baby or Erik?"

_For either way you choose, you cannot win!  
This is the choice  
This is the point of no return!_

_Choices…heartbreaking choices_

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik had inspected the entire De Chagny estate. He had even entered Raoul's room to find him sleeping alone. Christine was nowhere to be found. Erik knew in his heart that Christine was not there. He knew that she was somewhere else. For the first time in his life, his heart skipped a beat.

Erik left the De Chagny estate just like he had entered it, through an open window, leaving no trace behind him.

The De Chagny's would never know that once upon a night, the Opera Ghost had haunted their house. Raoul would never know how close Erik had come to killing him as he stood by his bed with the Punjab lasso in his hands. It would have been so easy and Erik would have gotten his revenge. But no, Erik had thought about Christine and had stopped himself.

Now Erik knew where Christine was. And if Erik's suspicions were correct, Pierre was a dead man.

A silent, solitary, deadly figure rode his horse and sped through the empty and quiet streets of Paris under the veil of the night. His black cape swayed in the arms of the wind. His white half mask was illuminated by the soft glow of the moon.

_Choices…life altering choices_

x-x-x-x-x-x

"_Choices… the crossroads that we are faced with, at one time or another in life, those intersections that cradle in their palms the turning point, that pivotal moment that holds the past, present, and future of one's existence in its hands. _

_Choices… deadly choices_

_Choices… heartbreaking choices_

_If only Erik and I had made the right decisions from the beginning, then perhaps none of what happened would have occurred. And maybe all the pain, betrayal, deception and tears would have all never existed. If only... _

_Choices… life altering choices_

_Choices…"_

Christine's diary


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty Four: (Hell)**

The carriage stopped in front of the Opera House; it was twelve at night. Pierre came out first and held the door for Christine. When she came out, he took her hand and kissed it as he said "Until tomorrow night, Mademoiselle Daae."

Christine nodded, too frail to speak.

Tomorrow night was the night of the big performance. Tomorrow night was the night that she would betray Erik.

Pierre grabbed her face gently with his hand and kissed her full on the lips. Christine did not fight it; she did not scream for it was all part of the deal. She just stood there as stiff as wood. The kiss lasted for a few seconds and Christine thought that she would vomit but she managed to control herself.

Silently, she prayed with all her heart that Erik wouldn't be watching.

She hadn't really understood why Pierre had insisted on kissing her in front of the Opera House. But Pierre knew what he was doing; he knew that Erik would be watching. And in this way, even if Christine tried to warn Erik, Erik wouldn't believe her anymore.

Suddenly, as the realization of what Pierre was doing hit her, Christine whispered in outrage, "You want me to look like a tramp in Erik's eyes, don't you? That's why you insisted on this meaningless kiss!"

"Very clever, my dear," Pierre replied with a smile as he traced her cheek with his fingers.

"Now Erik will think that you've betrayed him in more ways than one. And the more pain I can cause him, the merrier it is for me."

Christine violently slapped his hand away and said with a hatred she didn't even know she was capable of, "I loathe you!"

"Of course, you do," Pierre replied in amusement as he turned around, got back in his carriage and began to ride away, smiling widely all the time.

Looking back at her from the window, he continued calmly and smoothly, "And I wouldn't have it any other way, my dear."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine walked to her room in silence, leaving a trail of tears on the floor behind her.

She walked through the empty, dark halls. Knives stabbed her aching heart. In those moments, she wished she could die; she wished… but she knew she couldn't, not now, not when she was pregnant.

Christine opened the door to her room, miserable, barely able to walk. She stumbled toward the bed and collapsed on it, crying until she could cry no more.

"_Maybe I can warn Erik. Maybe I can tell him everything and we can run away before the performance," _she thought desperately. _  
_  
But Pierre's last words to her still rang in her ears, tormenting her.

"_Remember, the walls have ears, Christine," _he had whispered menacingly and threateningly.

"_If he saw that kiss, he won't believe me anymore. Even if I try to tell him," _Christine thought painfully.

An anguished sob escaped her lips and died inside the haunting silence of that tormenting night.

_Christine ripped off his mask, in front of all the audience, in Don Juan Triumphant. And for a moment, Erik's eyes met hers. All the sadness, the bitterness, the anger, the helplessness, the pain and the torment of the world came to life in his silent gaze._

That look still haunted her in her dreams… nightmares, causing her to forever remain chained to the walls of her own guilt. And now, as the images flashed back in her mind, she was suddenly filled with a new determination.

Christine wiped away her tears. She tried to get off her bed and go to Erik to warn him. She didn't care about the risk anymore. All she saw in front of her at that moment was her last betrayal, in Don Juan Triumphant. She knew that she just couldn't survive another betrayal like that. The guilt would either drive her insane, and she would end up in an institution, or the pain would literally kill her.

Christine gathered all the strength of her exhausted body and rose from the bed. As soon as she stood up, she felt too dizzy and fell down to the floor. To her frustration, she found that she couldn't get up; she was too weak to walk. She tried again and again, only to fall back down on the floor. She couldn't even lift herself back up to the bed.

But Christine continued to fight as she crawled toward the mirror, supporting herself on her elbows. With all the adrenaline that was left in her aching body, Christine tried so desperately to pry it open. Soon her struggles became weaker and weaker. She slowly gave in to the draining force of the fever that had started to consume her. And she drifted into darkness.

The hell that she was in seemed to disappear in an instant.

And in her dreams, she was with Erik.

Yes, in her dreams, she was sleeping in his arms and not on the cold, hard floor of her room by the mirror.

x-x-x-x-x-x

_Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair!  
Down we plunge to the prison of my mind!  
Down that path into darkness deep as hell!  
Why, you ask, was I bound and chained in this cold and dismal place?  
Not for any mortal sin, but the wickedness of my abhorrent face!  
_  
Erik paced back and forth in his lair. He had seen Christine come out of Pierre Richard's carriage and he had seen the bastard kissing her hand and her lips affectionately.

Erik wished that he had never returned to the Opera House. For the first time in his life, Erik wished that he had never met Christine or fallen in love with her. The knives of anger, pain and grief stabbed Erik's already deeply wounded heart.

"_Fool. What made you believe that you could trust her? She betrayed you once. Why would you think that she wouldn't betray you again? You're a monster in her eyes, always have been… You're a monster in the eyes of all of them… You're a monster."_

Erik pressed his hands to his ears in a futile attempt to stop the tormenting voices from ringing in his head as tears rolled down his eyes

"_Why, Christine? Why?"_

Now he knew where she had been. Apparently she had gone there of her own accord. He felt like such an idiot, searching and worrying about her when she had so blatantly been with his worst enemy.

Erik wished to believe that Pierre had kidnapped her but Erik knew better. No, Pierre had not kidnapped her, or else why would he return her. Pierre had not forced her into anything, or else why would he kiss her, while she didn't do anything to stop him.

Erik removed his mask and stared at his face in the mirror as he whispered to himself, _"What made you think that she would really love you? What made you think that she could ever love a monster? ... She's betrayed you in more ways than one. And tomorrow night she will betray you again."_

Erik fell to the ground on his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks, washing his good cheek and his deformed one with their incense. Erik cried for himself… for his fate… for a love that never really was his.

The voices of his heart and his soul whispered to him in agony, "_Even when the choice is between you and another deformed man, she never chooses you. Or maybe she just sees him as the victim and you the monster… yes, that's it."_

"Only this time, Christine, you will suffer the consequences of your actions…you will suffer in my hell and I will never let you go," Erik hissed bitterly.

x-x-x-x-x-x

It was eight thirty in the morning and Christine hadn't come to rehearsal. Madame was so worried now; she was frantic.

Before saying anything to Monsieurs Firmin and Andre, she decided to go check Christine's room first.

"_After all,"_ Madame thought, _"perhaps Erik found her and brought her back. Dear God, let her be well."_

Madame opened the door and gasped at the sight that befell her eyes. Christine lay there motionless on the floor by the mirror. Madame ran to her side. She fell to the floor, her black dress spreading around her unevenly. Madame held Christine in her arms.

She patted Christine's forehead and her messy brown hair softly as she whispered worriedly, "Mon Dieu! Wake up! Oh, God!"

"What's wro-? ... Oh, my God!" came Meg's voice from the doorway.

Her hazel eyes darted frantically from her mother to her friend Christine, who lay motionless on the floor.

"Meg!" Madame Giry ordered, "go and tell Monsieur Firmin at once and get the doctor here now!"

Meg nodded vehemently and swiftly left.

Madame tried to lift Christine but she couldn't and her age didn't help her either.

"My God, Erik, where are you?" Madame muttered frantically.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik opened his eyes to find himself sleeping on the floor. It had been the worst night of his life. His mask lay a few feet away from him. He slowly rose from the cold hard ground, every muscle in his body ached. All night long, he had dreamt nothing but nightmares about betrayal and monsters.

As his sight met his mirrored reflection again, Erik hissed in agony, "And monsters can never be loved in return."

After a few minutes of tormenting himself by staring endlessly at his reflection, he slowly picked up his mask from the floor. He stared at it for a few moments and then with one swift move, he wore it.

Erik looked at all the broken antiques on the ground around him. In his rage, he had smashed them to the ground the night before. He picked up a few broken pieces, only to let them slip through his fingers and fall to the floor again.

As he looked around, his sight fell upon a drawing of Christine. He picked it up and the tears fell down his face and rested in the palms of that beautiful silent painting, the painting of his angel.

"_No," _he thought bitterly, _"of my Delilah."_ Yes, that's what she'd become to him.

He was about to tear that picture into a million pieces, in the waves of his rage and despair, when her eyes stopped him. She looked at him silently, pleadingly, as if her eyes were trying to tell him something so desperately. A feeling overcame him, a sudden dreadful feeling that Christine was not well at all, a feeling that Christine needed him so.

He shook his head as he mumbled to himself, "Stupid feelings."

But the feeling persisted and grew stronger. It was as if something were pushing him to go upstairs and check up on Christine.

He couldn't fight the urge anymore. He fetched his cloak, highly irritated by his weakness to resist his emotions. And like the shadow that he was, he glided through the halls and the tunnels of the Opera cellars. He would go to see Christine one last time…to pay his Delilah one last visit.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik didn't open the mirror door because Christine was not alone in the room. There was Madame Giry and someone he didn't recognize - an old man with grey hair and eye glasses. Erik instantly knew that he was the doctor as his sight fell upon a pale and ill Christine.

All the anger and all the bitterness just disappeared in one instant. His heart started beating with worry and fear. His angel looked very sick. He could hear her low moans; she was calling him. He could hear her soft, broken, melodious voice calling out his name, _"Erik… Angel…Erik,"_ over and over again.

Then he heard the doctor speak with concern, "Madame, she is very exhausted and she has a high fever. When I checked up on her the first time, I strictly instructed that she rest. What happened to those instructions? And why and how is she here now?"

Madame Giry looked puzzled.

"I don't understand, Doctor. Where did you check up on her first?" Madame replied in confusion.

The doctor sighed.

"At Monsieur Pierre Richard's house. He found her on the street and she was unconscious, so he brought her to his home and called me. I told him that this woman is very tired and weak and that she should have a lot of rest, not to mention, that she is pregnant," the doctor replied.

Madame Giry's mouth hung open for a few moments in shock.

Erik felt his entire body go numb and stiffen as the doctor's words echoed in his mind, _"Pregnant… pregnant…pregnant."_

The whole world seemed to move in slow motion around him; his focus was lost and his whole body trembled.

As he closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure, suddenly the image of Christine kissing Pierre flashed into his mind. Only this time, he was seeing things a lot more clearly. He could see how stiff she was and then he heard her words to Pierre. When the kiss was over, she had said: _"I loathe you!"_ and Pierre had replied: _"Of course, you do… and I wouldn't have it any other way, my dear."  
_  
Erik's eyes snapped open again as the realization hit him.

"_That is it! How could I have been so stupid! That bastard must have threatened her with the baby! Oh, Christine. Oh, my love. I can't believe I allowed myself to believe… Oh, God!"_

His hand gently touched the cold hard glass of the mirror that still stood between him and her. The angel was still calling his name and soon he would go to her.

Looking at her pale face and her frail body, Erik felt a chill creep up his spine. What kind of cruel game was fate playing now? Was she given back to him, only to be taken away once more?

"_Is there no way out of this hell?"_ Erik's heart screamed a silent scream of despair.

But her voice, though wavering, pleading and anguished, gave him comfort. She still called out his name. And from the depths of his hell, Erik thought he caught a glimpse of heaven.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty Five: "Strange Girl"**

Madame regained her composure. She cleared her throat and replied, "So. W-what to do now, doctor?"

_"This was bound to happen sooner or later. She is his wife, so why am I so shocked?" _Madame silently scolded herself. The doctor's voice cut through her train of thought, in reply to her previous question.

"Try to keep her fever down. Use a wet, clean cloth and cool water. And don't worry. Her situation is not serious, not as long as we can keep her fever under control. She will probably be well in no time. She just needs a lot of rest," the doctor said in exasperation.

Madame nodded as she let out a sigh of relief.

When the servants had brought in a piece of clean cloth and a bowl of cool water, which they carefully placed on the table by Christine's bedside, Madame turned to escort the doctor out of the room.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Silence floated everywhere. Erik entered his beloved's room through the mirror.

With two strides, he was at her side. He knelt down beside the bed on which she lay; his cape covered the floor with black. He gently caressed her forehead and tangled hair, wiping away the beads of sweat that were there.

"I'm here now…I'm here," he tenderly and lovingly whispered.

Erik sat by Christine's bedside for a long while, gently wiping her face with the wet piece of cloth. He dipped it in the bowl of water every now and then, only to bring it back to her face and neck.

Christine stirred a little at the feel of the wet cold cloth on her skin but remained asleep, under the control of the ever slowly diminishing fever.

Suddenly, the sound of a gasp cut through the thick silence and startled Erik out of his reverie and torment. He swiftly rose and turned around to face the unwelcome intruder.

His sad, moist eyes turned into two blazing, dangerous pits as they met Meg's terrified hazel ones. Meg moved back toward the door but Erik was faster. He grabbed her by the arm, causing Meg to gasp in shock and fear as he swiftly turned her around toward him.

Looking into her frightened eyes, he hissed, "Didn't anyone ever teach you to knock before you enter?"

Meg nodded, her blond hair falling gracefully around her shoulders as she whispered back, her voice trembling with fear, "Y-yes, b-but I didn't expect to find anyone here. I just came to check up on C-Christine."

Erik saw how terrified she was of him and his anger subsided. His eyes held a softer gaze now as he gently let go of her arm. Meg took in a deep breath of relief.

Seeing that she was free, Meg swiftly turned around to leave, to run away, grateful that the Phantom had not hurt her. Instead, she stopped dead in her tracks, because, deep inside of her, she knew that there was something she had to do first.

Courage bloomed inside her being and she turned back to face Erik.

"I want to thank you," she said with a steady voice.

Erik looked at her, his eyes silent, void of emotion. Meg could still see a hint of confusion in them as to what she was saying and a glimpse of irritation at the fact that she hadn't left yet.

Without thinking, Meg walked cautiously back toward him. She cleared her throat while gathering all her strength.

"W-what I meant," she stuttered nervously, trying to explain her statement.

Silently she cursed herself because she had stuttered again. She didn't want him to have that power over her… the power of fear.

A new determination grew inside of her as she continued with a stronger tone and a steady voice, "What I meant to say, was that I'm really grateful for what you did for me."

She took a deep breath to calm her beating heart.

"Now, I may not agree with your methods, but none the less, you saved my life. And for that, I am eternally grateful," Meg said confidently.

Her timid eyes were locked to Erik's daring ones now.

After an intense silence, Erik replied coolly, "You're very welcome, Marguerite."

His voice, his beautiful, magnificent voice, had spoken her name. Meg thought that she was floating on a cloud for an instant, there.

His voice was smooth as chocolate, pure as heaven, and seductive as hell. Meg thought she would faint at the thought. The Ghost had said her name! She had always wondered and dreamed about what it would sound like, what her name would sound like, inside the magical waves of his voice and now she knew… now she knew.

During the two weeks after her horrific experience with Pierre, when she was in a really bad state, Erik had sung her to sleep every night. It was his angelic voice, his magnificent voice that had saved her from the grip of insanity and pain. It was his song that had brought her back to her loved ones. It was his tune that had healed her aching soul and heart.

Now, his voice echoed inside her entire being, once again.

Acting completely on impulse, Meg ran toward Erik, her beautiful ballerina dress fluttering around her body as she hugged him tight, her arms wrapping around his waist. Erik stood there shocked and completely still. She pressed her cheek to his strong chest and breathed in his exquisite scent. For those few moments, she was completely lost inside her dreams.

When she had awoken from her trance, she abruptly pulled away, strongly sensing that he was highly uncomfortable with this display of affection.

Meg, blushing and embarrassed, nervously exclaimed, "I'm sorry. I-I…"

"It's all right," Erik replied calmly, his eyes holding a glitter of amusement.

Meg turned around and ran outside the room.

She didn't care that she had just made a complete fool of herself. All she cared about was the fact that she had met her guardian angel, the one who had always silently taken care of her and her mother throughout the years. Her fantasy had come true, if only for a few moments. And for that, she would be forever grateful.

Erik locked the door so that no one would interrupt him anymore. He had been so worried about Christine that he had forgotten all his other usual precautions.

"_What a strange girl,"_ he thought as he shook his head, for a moment, in disbelief.

The melodious voice of his angel brought him out of his thoughts and caused his heart to tremble with love. Christine whispered his name.

She was awake!

And everything else in his world was forgotten. Everything else vanished before her light and beauty. There was only Christine now… there was only Christine always… his one true love… his beautiful angel.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty Six: "The Price Reprise"**

Christine sat up in bed, pale and scared, as Erik rushed to her side.

She threw herself into his arms and Erik held her in a protective embrace. Christine sobbed as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and whispered pleadingly, "Don't leave me… please, don't leave me."

Erik just held her; he held her for what seemed an eternity. Christine laid her head helplessly on his shoulder. He could feel his shirt getting wet from her tears but he didn't care.

"I'm here now… I'm here," Erik whispered soothingly but his voice broke.

He didn't want to show weakness in front of Christine but he couldn't talk anymore. A shivering pang of guilt gathered inside the depths of his soul. It was because of him that Pierre was there in the first place. Christine, Meg and Madame Giry were all innocent victims in this game of revenge. Pierre had hurt them in order to hurt Erik and Erik knew it. And that fact silently tore him apart

_There is a price for everything.  
_  
He could tell that Christine had calmed down somewhat. Her shaking body had stilled; only small whimpers could be heard every now and then escaping her lips. She pulled away from him. Christine rose from the bed and moved away from his protective embrace. Erik rose in return, staying close to her, afraid that she would collapse any minute.

"Erik, we must leave now…we don't have much time… Pierre wants you dead… he hates you… he wants me to betray you…he-" Christine frantically exclaimed.

Erik gently pressed a finger to her lips.

"I know, Christine. I know," he replied calmly.

Christine lovingly took Erik's hand in hers and brought it to her mouth where she bestowed upon his palm a stream of soft kisses. Erik was watching her all the time, his love and his adoration for her burning in his eyes. After a few moments, she stopped and raised her head to face him.

Christine looked deeply into his eyes, still holding his hand in hers.

"Erik, I want to know everything," she bravely said.

Erik removed his hand from Christine's small one and walked toward the window. Her eyes keenly trailed his movements. He looked out toward the bright morning sky, forgetting everything and just enjoying the feel of the light on his masked face… a face that was so used to darkness.

"Sometimes, it's better not to know, Christine," Erik whispered distantly.

He then turned around, eyeing her keenly in return.

"But I, on the other hand, need you to tell me everything Pierre told you," he continued, his voice calm but commanding.

Christine walked closer to Erik and standing so close, face to face, she replied confidently, "I'll tell you if you tell me."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Madame Giry had wanted to go back to Christine's room after she had escorted the doctor outside but she was delayed by Monsieurs Firmin and Andre, who bombarded her with questions concerning Christine. They wanted to know if Christine would be able to perform that night. Madame Giry was stuck in their never-ending interrogation. Silently, Madame sighed in exasperation.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"There's something important that I need to tell you first," Christine stated nervously.

Erik gently caressed her cheeks with his hands. He looked lovingly and reassuringly into her eyes as she took a deep breath.

"I-I'm pregnant."

"I know," Erik replied calmly.

Christine saw a glitter of sadness in his eyes. She didn't know why and for some reason, it saddened her too.

"_Maybe he's afraid of fatherhood. Maybe he is terrified that this child will have his face. But doesn't he know by now that I don't care. I will love this baby no matter what," _Christine thought._  
_  
She felt Erik's hands on her stomach, over the white satin of her nightgown. His eyes were closed in concentration as if he were trying to feel the baby. Christine's heartbeat increased as her eyes watched his hands lovingly caress her. Christine would never forget those few moments of heaven.

Yes, Erik was deathly afraid that this baby would have his face but his mind was preoccupied with other more urgent matters now. He knew that it was too late to run away with Christine. He knew he had to get rid of Pierre. And he knew that there was only one way to do it.

Erik slowly moved away from Christine. He pushed his raven hair back from his face and sat down on her bed. Christine in turn sat beside him. They looked at each other for a few moments as Christine started to tell him everything.

Erik listened intently to every detail of the plan that Christine was supposed to carry out. She told him about her ordeal with Pierre; she told him about her outing with Raoul's father. She just told him everything. At parts, tears would fall down her eyes and at parts, anger would flair through her gaze. Erik just listened.

Inside the flow of her frantic telling, Christine stopped herself. She eyed Erik for a few moments.

"Please, Erik, please tell me that you didn't forge Raoul's signature on the divorce papers. Please tell me that you didn't make me live a lie," she pleaded desperately.

Erik gently wiped away her tears.

"Christine, I did not forge Raoul's signature. And what we have is truer than reality itself," Erik replied lovingly while looking deeply into her beautiful eyes.

Christine smiled as she pressed her lips against his, a wave of relief washing over her.

As their lips parted, Christine whispered, "I don't want to go back to Raoul."

"Christine, if you think you're strong enough, I want you to perform tonight. I want you to pretend that you're going through with the plan," Erik ordered.

Christine nodded.

"But you'll get us out of this, won't you?" she asked nervously

She was trying to reassure herself and Erik knew it.

"I will take care of everything."

Erik held her in his arms again. But there was a chilling, distant ambience of grief and coldness in his voice that made Christine shiver. And yet, there was a reassurance in his warm gentle embrace that wiped away all her fears and doubts.

_There is a price for everything. Nothing is ever for free. Happiness comes with a price, grief comes with a price, and love comes with the highest price of them all. _

x-x-x-x-x-x

Madame Giry was finally able to break free from the managers' interrogation. She walked hurriedly to supervise the rehearsals. Actually she had used her job as an excuse to terminate their infinite questions. _"And then I will check up on Christine,"_ Madame thought triumphantly to herself.

She had not told the managers about Christine's pregnancy, for that was a private matter.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"I want you to rest now, so that you will be strong enough to attend rehearsals in the afternoon," Erik gently whispered in her ear.

Christine looked up at him as she pulled away from his embrace and said in protest, "But you said you would tell me everything."

"I'll tell you later," Erik replied gently as he helped her back into bed.

Erik covered her and kissed her on the forehead. As he turned to leave, Christine grabbed his hand in hers and whispered, "Sing me a song, Angel."

Erik couldn't help but smile. Christine's heart fluttered in her chest; it was so rare when he smiled, but when he did, she was transfixed by the beauty of his face.

He lay next to her in bed. She snuggled into his arms and he softly began to sing with his ethereal voice, an old song that he had learned a long time ago, _a song about a nightingale and a white rose_. He had never told Christine that fable but now he was singing about it. Perhaps, someday, he would tell her…perhaps.

In no time, Christine had fallen asleep in his arms. Erik slowly moved away from her. He had a lot of things to do and little time to do them. He kissed her softly on the lips and adjusted the covers over her. And for a moment, he listened to her even breathing. She seemed very relaxed and Erik was relieved.

"Sleep well, my rose," he whispered lovingly, vanishing inside the mirror passage way.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Monsieur Reyer, where is our prima ballerina?" Madame Giry enquired, silently wondering why her daughter wasn't at rehearsal.

Monsieur Reyer sighed.

"She wanted to take an early break. And I agreed, since you weren't here. She already knows her part very well," Monsieur Reyer said in exasperation.

Madame nodded, satisfied by his reply. She walked back toward the girls on the stage as she said in her usual firm voice, her cane hitting the floor, "From the beginning once more. And Jammes, stop talking!"

Silently, Madame Giry's heart beat with a thousand unspoken fears, as she thought about that night's performance.

"_Tonight… tonight all hell will break loose. May God be with us all."_

x-x-x-x-x-x

Meg sat on her bed, in her fancy room.

She slowly opened the drawer of the small dresser by her bed and removed a white half mask from it. It was the mask she had found in the ruins of the Phantom's lair, when the mob had raided the Opera House on that terrible night. She had kept it with her all this time in secret. No one knew about this mask, not even Christine.

When she had thought that Erik was dead, she had kept it as a memory of someone she never really knew but someone who meant a lot to her for some reason. Perhaps it was because she too was lonely at times. Her father had died when she was five and she too had hoped to have an angel just like Christine, someone to watch over her.

And now that he was alive… that he had saved her life… and that she had met him, that mask meant a lot more to her.

The old Meg would have enthusiastically spread the story of how she had met the infamous Opera Ghost among all her fellow ballerinas. She would have enjoyed the popularity and basked under its rays. But that was the old, childish Meg. This Meg, this new Meg, was a mature woman, who understood that the Opera Ghost was a man, a broken man, a deadly man, but none the less, a man.

She didn't know what it was she wanted from him, but she knew that she had to return his mask. _"That is, if I can get through tonight's performance,"_ Meg thought bitterly and painfully, knowing that Pierre, whom she hated, would be there, watching the performance. But Meg pushed those thoughts aside. Looking back down at the white half mask in her hands, Meg's thoughts went back to Erik. _  
_  
_"Tonight,"_ Meg thought to herself. _"Tonight, I will give him back his mask, and maybe…"_ Even her thoughts trailed off in fear and confusion.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine awoke from her sleep. She had slept for two hours straight. She yawned and stretched. She felt so much better. As soon as she turned to her side, she frowned because Erik was not there.

She slowly got out of bed, noticing a note had been placed on her vanity table. Christine walked over to where the paper lay.

"_My rose, my angel,_

_Meet me, near Apollo's statue, eight thirty tonight. I love you.  
I remain your obedient servant, Erik"  
_  
Christine smiled as she brought the paper close to her heart and gently hugged it, letting out a sigh of love. Excitement filled her even though she didn't know why Erik wanted to meet her, half an hour before the big performance, or for what purpose.

Thinking of the big performance, Christine knew that she had to get dressed. For soon the makeup artists would arrive to do her hair and make up and bother her beyond reason. She chuckled to herself at the thought.

She touched her forehead and was relieved to see that the fever had broken completely.

When she looked at the mirror again, Christine felt a pang of fear grow inside her being. Silently, she whispered a prayer, a quiet plea, out of the depths of her heart, the pits of her fear.

"_Please, dear God, let everything be all right… Deliver us, from all evil."_

A prayer that dissolved inside the bright rays of the daylight and was carried on the wings of the wind to the highest heavens.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"_May God have mercy on your soul, Pierre… May God have mercy on my soul."_

Yes, there's a price for everything. But how far is one willing to go, how much is one willing to pay, for the sake of the ones you love? And deep inside the chambers of his heart, far inside the shores of his tormented soul, Erik knew the answer… the price that he would pay.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty Seven: (Destiny)**

Christine stood before the mirror, looking at herself one last time.

She was relieved that she was alone at last. Her room had been crowded for a long while, in the presence of hairstylists and makeup artists. But now, there was quiet and peace.

As Christine continued to look at herself, she sighed deeply.

Her hair fell gracefully onto her shoulders and back. A big golden crown graced her head. Her dress was golden as well. It outlined her waist and got wider as it fell down to her feet. It had long elegant golden sleeves and a chain of small golden roses was sewn around its waistline and chest line.

The dress glittered in the light of her room. She looked like a goddess, like Aphrodite in all her glory, but she was unaware of it.

Christine turned away from the mirror hastily, a million thoughts running through her mind. With every passing minute, her heart beat faster; the time was nearing. Soon, destiny would be decided and Christine trembled in fear.

She walked out of her room and closed the door behind her as she made her way toward the stairs that led to the rooftop.

Christine opened the door of the roof and her jaw dropped at the sight that lay before her eyes. The roof was lit with a soft spellbinding light, only she didn't know the source of the light. White smoke seemed to be coming from the floor, like thick mist covering the ground with its gentle veil and making it invisible.

Christine thought that she was walking on clouds instead of the ground as she made her way away from the door and into that mesmerizing _strange new world_ that seemed to exist only for her. The sight was breathtaking and Christine blinked a few times to make sure that she wasn't dreaming.

No, she wasn't dreaming, but Christine still could barely believe her eyes.

"Erik, are you here?" she softly called out.

Suddenly, the sound of a violin echoed all around her playing a most enchanting tune. Heavenly melodies seemed to surround her, caressing her soul and giving her wings. The music seemed to be coming from everywhere, consuming her with its gentle flames. Christine closed her eyes for a moment, to take in all of its glory.

Every note seemed to sink deep into her being, to die on the shores of her heart, only to erupt once again in glorious emotions. Christine breathed deeply and opened her eyes again, only now, the beautiful misty smoke and the enchanting tunes weren't the only things present around her.

There, floating everywhere, were small lights, like fireflies, but Christine didn't know what they were exactly. It was as if she were in some fairytale. The lights glowed gently all around her, like falling stars, as she just stood there in silent awe. She marveled at the beauty before her eyes. She marveled at this fantasy that she seemed to be living.

"Christine," a soft voice lovingly called out to her.

That mesmerizing voice seemed to be coming from everywhere, just like the music. That voice made her go weak at the knees; it was the ethereal voice of her angel…Erik.

Christine finally managed to reply in a whisper of awe, "Angel?... Is that you?... Erik?"

The only reply she got was his heavenly voice, singing to her as the violin continued to play.

Christine stood there, completely overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. It was in those spellbinding moments that Christine felt as if she were literally in heaven, walking among the clouds and caressing the stars as the angel of music sang to her.

Christine then looked around to try to find Erik. Just like a vision, he seemed to appear from behind the gentle waves of the mist, like a ghost, like a shadow, like an angel. He was wearing a very elegant black suit, and his white half mask glittered in the dim light. He gracefully moved toward her.

Her eyes were glued to him, how magnificent he looked. His black hair, his amazing eyes glittering like a pair of diamonds, everything about him was breathtaking. The power of his presence, the magic of his voice and the glow of his eyes were incomparable to anyone else.

The song ended but the violin continued to play its haunting tune as they stood there, just looking at each other, his eyes devouring her and her eyes adoring him.

Erik gently took her bare hand in his black-gloved one. He raised it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her soft skin.

Looking back into her beautiful eyes, he whispered with his hauntingly beautiful voice, "May I have this dance?"

Christine nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.

His arms gently wrapped around her waist and her arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled her closer to him. They began to slowly sway in perfect harmony with the enchanting tunes of the violin.

They swayed inside the beautiful veils of the smoky mist that surrounded them. They swayed among the little magical lights that floated around them like fireflies. They swayed to the music of the night. They were in heaven… they literally were in heaven, two angels madly in love.

He twirled her around and she turned like a dancing queen and fell back on his arm, like a fallen goddess, as his body leaned downward while he held her. He lifted her up again and turned her back to him as they regained their positions and they continued to sway in perfect harmony wrapped in each other's arms. A smile graced Christine's face and her eyes shone like the stars above.

It was a dance like none other.

But nothing lasts forever and even their marvelous dance was no exception to that universal rule. The time of the performance was very near now… the time of life and death… and Erik knew.

And that magical, most wonderful dance of Christine's life came to an end. Erik gracefully stopped swaying and she stopped with him. Her big innocent brown eyes looked up at him as he moved away from her, just a few steps.

Looking at her, Erik smiled inwardly as a blood red rose tied with a black satin ribbon seemed to come out of nowhere and into his gloved hand. It was an old magic trick he had learned.

He gave it to Christine who smiled widely at him.

"How did you do that?" she asked in child-like awe.

"A good magician, my angel, never reveals his secrets," Erik replied with a slight smile.

He held her close to him again as he caressed her lips with his in a deep, sensual kiss, a kiss that she entirely returned with the same passion and fervor.

Then he slowly knelt down, his hands still holding her waist. He gently kissed her stomach.

"I love you, too, little angel," he whispered.

Christine watched him intently, her heart burning with even more love, if it were possible. Erik rose and stood before Christine again. He traced Christine's slightly parted lips with his gloved hand. She closed her eyes to take in the beautiful sensation, waiting patiently and yet impatiently for him to kiss her again.

Erik's hand was not caressing her face anymore; nor was his arm wrapped around her waist. Christine abruptly opened her eyes, only to find that Erik was gone.

Christine looked around frantically for a moment as she called out worriedly, "Erik!... Angel!"

His voice rang all around her, echoing with an otherworldly beauty.

"Always remember that I love you, my angel, my Christine."

Christine's chest heaved up and down in excitement and fear. And just like that, the smoke was gone, the small lights disappeared, the violin stopped playing and Erik was not there anymore.

Christine held the red rose that he had given her close to her heart and walked back toward reality, back toward her fears of tonight and back to earth, all the way from heaven. She felt like a fallen angel.

As she stood at the door of the rooftop, Christine looked back at the roof one last time, only now, it was empty and quiet. She slowly closed the door behind her and walked back down to the chaos and excitement of a new performance. And that terrible fear, born of the fact that destiny would be decided tonight, was born again.

Erik smiled contently as he watched Christine leave the roof. The memory of that dance would live inside of him forever.

But now, another side of him had to take control. A devious smirk drew on his face at the sight of Pierre getting down from his carriage.

"_Sway to the music of hate…Remember the days of the violence…Reap what you have sown…See the monster that you have created,"_ Erik's heart bitterly whispered and Erik listened.

The dance of love was over… its beauty…its magic…its light… and now, it was time for the dance of hate to take place…its torment…its cruelty…its darkness…

Yes, destiny would be decided that night and it was time for the angel of music to die and for the Phantom to be born again.

Erik's eyes, those eyes that had glittered with love and passion to Christine only minutes ago, now glittered with a fierceness and a cold cruelty.

"_Dance to the music of sweet vengeance…dance to the music of hate…let the Phantom be born again."_ Erik's soul swayed to the distant, haunting tunes of his thoughts as his mind whispered those sweet beckoning words, luring him back into the darkness of his being.

Yes, destiny would be decided that night, and silent, trembling hearts waited for the verdict.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty Eight: (The Truth)**

"_That was the best dance of my life…even now, I can still see myself swaying in the arms of my Angel…I can still breath the magic that was in the air that night…Erik had truly shown me heaven…That dance was my fantasy…reality…and truth… "_

Christine's diary

**The year: (1920)**

Raoul stopped reading because he couldn't read anymore. But this time, not because tears filled his eyes - God knows, he had no more tears left to shed - but because he felt a sharp pain sear through his chest, a deep torturous pain that cut through his beating heart.

He felt paralyzed; he couldn't move his arms. He couldn't talk or call for help because of the intensity of the pain. In those dark moments, Raoul thought that he would die and perhaps find some peace at last as the diary slid from his old trembling hands and fell to the floor.

His breathing became heavier and darkness started to overcome him although he could still hear his thoughts echoing inside the confines of his being.

"_Christine, why?... If you loved him, why lie to me?... Christian is my son… He must be my son… I refuse to believe…Oh, God, he's not my son…How could you, Christine?... How could you do this to me? ... Now I hate you as much as I love you…"_

Raoul collapsed on the floor, falling off the chair as his body gave in to the peaceful, calm darkness that surrounded his being.

The maids heard the sound of a thud and ran to the living room to find old Raoul lying motionless on the floor, the diary lying open a few feet away from him. Danielle ran over to Raoul and frantically ordered one of the other maids to go get the doctor.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"So, tell me, Doctor. What's wrong with him?" Danielle asked worriedly.

The doctor cleared his voice as he replied, "He has suffered from a heart attack. I-"

The doctor looked down at the ground for a moment. Danielle's eyes grew wide with worry as she asked impatiently, concern evident in her voice, "Tell me, Doctor! What is it?"

The doctor sighed as he looked back at her and said softly, "I did all I could. I'm afraid he doesn't have much time left. If he has any family, inform them. He needs to be surrounded by his loved ones."

Danielle's eyes grew misty and wide with shock. How could it be possible that he was dying now when only a few days ago, his health was good? Danielle could hardly believe what was happening. Silently, she blamed that accursed diary that he had started to read.

"But he was well. His health was good before. Why now-?" Danielle softly exclaimed, her voice slightly wavering.

"Well, for a man of his age, his health was good. But he has suffered from a massive heart attack. His old frail body won't last much longer," the doctor said while wiping away the beads of sweat that had gathered on his forehead with his napkin.

Danielle could only stand there, grief stricken. Her thin calm, old features filled with sadness, for although she wasn't related to Raoul, she had served him and his family for many long years. They had treated her as though she were one of the family. She, in return, had felt as if they were her family.

"How much longer, Doctor?" Danielle slowly inquired, giving in to harsh reality.

The doctor sighed.

"A few weeks at the most," he answered.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christian sat in his office, bent down over some important paper work, when his wife entered.

Elizabeth was a tall, slender woman with long blond hair and sky blue eyes. She had soft features and an elegant presence. Christian had met her at a party in England when he had traveled there on business, architecture as usual.

Christian had fallen for Elizabeth instantly. When they had danced that night, he knew that she was the one.

Later on, he had found out that her father was a very rich man and that he owned one of the biggest wineries in the country.

Christian looked up from all the frustrating paper work and into his wife's beautiful eyes, only to see that she looked worried.

After studying her features for a moment, he asked with concern, "What's the matter, darling?"

Elizabeth looked into her husband's piercing eyes and sighed.

"We received a letter from Paris today," she slowly said as she sat down.

Christian frowned, curiosity blooming in his beautiful eyes as he replied, "And?"

Elizabeth silently handed him the letter. Christian cautiously took the paper from her hand and began to read.

Suddenly, his curious expression turned to that of grief. He placed the paper on his desk and buried his face in his hands in exhaustion.

"It can't be… Father was fine the last time I wrote him!" he exclaimed.

Elizabeth rose and walked to her husband's side. Standing beside him, she softly massaged his shoulder and rubbed his back.

"I'm so sorry, Christian," she said softly.

Christian sighed, trying hard to stay in control of his emotions. Regaining his composure, he gently took one of Elizabeth's hands in his and lovingly kissed it as he brought her in front of him.

Christian cleared his voice as he said calmly, "Tell the children to get ready. We're returning to Paris, first thing tomorrow morning."

Elizabeth nodded in reply.

"I'll tell the maids to pack our things," she replied quietly.

"Yes," Christian replied almost absent-mindedly.

Being left alone at last, Christian let a tear roll down his face.

x-x-x-x-x-x

The journey to Paris was one of the longest Christian had ever experienced in his entire life. Last year, he had lost his mother and now he was about to lose his father. It was all too painful for him.

Sixteen-year old Lotte looked at her father as she asked softly and nervously, "Grandpa is going to be fine, isn't he?"

Christian smiled at the sight of his worried daughter. She looked so beautiful. _"Just like her mother,"_ he thought. Her blond curls fell gracefully on her shoulders and her eyes were the purest sky blue just like Elizabeth's. Yet somehow, she looked like Christine as well.

Christian softly brushed aside a curl that had fallen over her face.

"I don't know, sweetheart…I just don't know," he gently replied.

Seeing her beautiful eyes get moist broke Christian's heart all over again. He held her close to him.

Little six-year old John slept in his mother's lap and fourteen year old Rose sat silent, looking out the window, looking worried. Christian watched her. She was a lot like him - her black hair, her piercing emerald eyes and her silence in times of trouble.

He gently touched her shoulder as she turned to face him.

"Everything will be all right, Rose," Christian said softly.

Rose looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears as she angrily replied, "No, it won't. You just told Lotte that you didn't know."

Christian sighed.

"I don't know if your grandfather will be fine or not but I know that things, in the end, will be all right," he said calmly

"But I want him to be fine! I don't want to lose him as well. Just last year I lost grandmama and she was the best," Rose replied in frustration, anger and grief.

Christian wiped away his daughter's tears, unable to say anything.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christian and the family arrived at last. As they entered the De Chagny estate, the maids greeted them and Danielle led them to their rooms. Rose and Lotte each went to her room. They both were very sad. Christian and Elizabeth knew that their children needed time to be alone.

Elizabeth put tired little John in his bed. She covered him and placed a kiss on his forehead. Walking to their room, Christian helped her because she looked exhausted.

"Darling," he said softly while helping her sit on the bed, "I want you to rest. I realize that the trip was exhausting."

He placed a kiss on her lips.

"I'm just going to take a nap," Elizabeth replied with a yawn.

She lay down on the bed and Christian covered her. Looking up into his eyes, she whispered worriedly, "You need to rest, too."

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," Christian reassured her.

He kissed her forehead and walked out of their room.

Christian walked down the luxurious halls and stood for a few moments before his father's bedroom, afraid of what lay behind that door. Christian took a deep breath and gathered all his strength. He placed his slightly trembling hand on the handle and swiftly opened the door. There lay his father, motionless in bed. He looked so pale, so ill and so peaceful, all at the same time.

Christian cautiously walked to where his father lay. He looked down at him for a moment, his eyes moist to the extent that he could barely see in front of him anymore. He swiftly turned around and walked out of his father's room. He was too emotionally exhausted to see his father like that any longer. He laid his back on the cold wall of the hallway as he tried to calm his beating heart.

"Monsieur, would you like me to prepare you something to eat?" Danielle's voice came like a sharp razor cutting through his train of thought.

Christian shook his head as he looked at her concerned eyes and replied calmly, "No, no thank you. I'm fine."

Danielle wasn't going to be defeated that easily.

"Monsieur, you need to rest. You look exhausted," she insisted.

"I will," Christian replied.

Danielle turned on her heel but Christian's voice stopped her as he asked curiously, "How did it happen? What caused my father's heart attack?"

Danielle turned around, hesitant for a few seconds, debating whether she should tell him the truth or not. She decided that the truth was the best course of action.

"When we were cleaning your mother's room, we found a diary. We told your father about it and he has been reading it for a few days now," she replied nervously.

Danielle sighed, feeling the pressure under Christian's commanding and piercing gaze.

"Reading that diary has taken its toll on your father's old heart. I told him not to read it, that it wasn't important. But he wouldn't listen," she continued sorrowfully.

Christian stood still, in silent contemplation.

"Where is that diary? I want to read it," Christian finally ordered.

Danielle wanted to object but seeing Christian's determined countenance, she gave in.

"Follow me, Monsieur," she replied.

Standing in Raoul's office, holding his mother's diary in his hands, Christian's heart missed a beat.

He took a deep breath as he dismissed Danielle and sat down in a chair. Christian stared at the diary for a few minutes, uncertain of what to do next. _"Should I invade my mother's privacy and read? Or should I just leave the past in the past where it belongs?"_ Those questions haunted him for a few moments as the realization struck him.

"_If I don't read this diary, I will be haunted with the torment of not knowing for the rest of my life. I must know." _

He opened that book with great determination, that diary that held the bitter, sweet truth.

"_And the truth shall set you free,"_ Christian whispered in a steady voice but with a trembling heart as he began to read.

_And the truth shall set you free._


	30. Chapter 30

**This chapter features a song by Sarah Brightman, entitled "The Last Words You Said" from her album Eden.**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Twenty Nine: (The Last Words)**

Days passed by and Christian continued reading the diary in his free time. He didn't tell his wife about the diary and he asked Danielle to keep the matter a secret. The more he read, the more he was plagued by unanswered questions.

"_Who was this Phantom? How did my mother betray this man? And why did she call him 'Angel of Music'?" _Christian thought with intense curiosity.

His parents had told him so many stories when he was younger but they had never told him about the Phantom or the Angel of Music. And then the moment of truth came as he reached the part where his mother had told 'Erik' that she was pregnant with his child.

Christian's hands trembled as he went on to read about that dance between his mother and Erik. By then, his eyes were moist and he couldn't read anymore as the tears blinded him, tears that refused to fall.

Christian put the diary down for a moment to calm his pounding heart and to dry his tear filled eyes.

"_No…no… it can't be…it just can't be."_

Suddenly it all made sense. It all became so painfully clear. Now he understood his mother's last words to him as she lay dying.

"_Forgive me, Christian Charles. Please forgive me…" _

Christian could still hear her weak, melodious voice. It still echoed inside the chambers of his heart, refusing to ever die.

**(The year: 1872)**

_Somewhere in time I know,  
Darling you'll come back to me.  
Roses will bloom again,  
But Spring feels like eternity.  
In your kiss it wasn't goodbye.  
You are still the reason why.  
_  
Christine sang and every ounce of her being trembled as thoughts of Erik filled her mind, heart and soul. As she sang the words, scenes from her life flashed before her eyes.

A little girl by the sea…they called her Little Lotte…Raoul saving her scarf…childhood sweethearts… father dying…standing at his funeral… tears filling her eyes… an orphaned, lonely, broken little girl brought to the Opera House…the only thing that sustained her hope was her father's promise…the Angel of Music…

_I can hear you whispering in the silence of my room,  
My heart still surrenders like the sun to the moon._

The Angel of Music…beautiful enchanting moments…Raoul coming back into her life…love…passion…murder… the Phantom…fear…obsession…love…a secret engagement…first betrayal…going to the cemetery…trying to say goodbye…Angel of Music, I denied you…Angel of Music, please, forgive me…the last betrayal… the unmasking of Don Juan Triumphant…

Guilt still burned inside her, eating her alive. She had been so naïve, so easily manipulated by what others said and by her own fear. She still wondered how she could have done something so cruel to the one man who had given her everything, who had dedicated his life to her.

_I can barely stand this aching, burning endlessly.  
"Love me now forever,"  
Were the last words you said to me.  
_  
Then there was their second meeting, after she had thought that she had lost her Angel forever. And all the beautiful moments they had spent together. There was also the knowledge that she had ended up hurting Raoul as well, although she had never meant it. And the guilt she felt just increased to a tormenting climax… _Raoul…loving, wonderful Raoul…I don't deserve you, nor do I deserve Erik… _

Then there was now and Christine's heart pounded in her chest with a thousand frightened beats.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik stood in box five for the last time watching his Angel sing. Her voice was so beautiful and Erik's eyes became moist for a moment.

He tipped his hat in farewell, as if box five were a real person. Erik bid his second dwelling place, goodbye. His hands gently traced the walls of his box, for one last time. And like the shadow that he was, he vanished… back down to the dark catacombs of his first dwelling place, back to the ruthless torture chambers of his creation.

He could hear the low moaning of agony coming from the inside, as a cruel, cold smirk drew on his face. It had been easier than expected. Now he had Pierre, completely and utterly under his mercy.

"_Maybe I should torture him some more. Talk to him, drive him crazy," _Erik thought darkly._  
_  
Giving in completely to the darkness inside of him, his smirk turned into a wicked smile as he suddenly appeared to Pierre from behind the tormenting mirrors.

"Pierre, you are an intelligent man, unlike other patrons I have known here in this Opera House," Erik hissed.

Pierre swung his sword frantically, using all that remained of his strength, at all the mirrors where Erik seemed to appear.

Erik continued, highly amused, "But you have a fatal weakness… a fatal flaw…you feel…your anger blinds you."

"Yes, it appears I have your same flaw," Pierre replied, between agonizing gasps for air as the room's temperature increased to an intolerable high.

Erik smiled sarcastically.

"No, Pierre, I have learned to control my anger. You see, one can do things much more efficiently if one puts emotions aside."

Pierre looked exhausted, his breathing becoming increasingly labored, his body becoming extremely weak and dehydrated from the heat as beads of sweat fell from him like drops of rain. The Punjab lasso was just a few steps away from his collapsing body, silently waiting on the iron tree, quietly luring its victim to its deadly grip.

To Pierre, death seemed like a relief, at that moment.

Erik was enjoying this game immensely. Pierre fell hopelessly to the floor, waiting for the heat to kill him.

"Why didn't you just kill me on the roof top, on the night of masquerade?" Pierre faintly asked.

"Because," Erik replied coldly, "death means rest and I wanted you to suffer."

"You still haven't changed, Phantom…you destroy lives and move on as if you haven't done anything." Pierre panted for air and continued weakly. "Just so you know, I will not kill myself…if you want me dead, you're going to have to kill me yourself…let's see how tough you really are."

"And who ever said that I have changed, boy," Erik hissed back. "I am not the hero here. I am the villain."

In that moment, Pierre's brown eyes met Erik's blazing emerald ones. As their eyes were locked in a fierce duel, that horrible memory flashed before Erik's eyes…and in that moment he was back, trapped inside the terrible past.

_Erik strangled the man to death._

_There was a fierce struggle as the man tried frantically to break from Erik's death grip. But with one final strong nudge, the man breathed his last. His lips had turned blue as his eyes rolled back into his head._

_A family picture fell from the man's desk and crashed to the floor, its frame breaking into a thousand pieces._

_Erik let go of him as the man fell lifeless beside his broken family portrait. _

_Erik's breath was heavy but his look remained that of steel. As he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of a small child hiding behind the door of his father's office._

_For a moment, Erik's eyes met the terrified, shocked, tearful eyes of the little boy. He wasn't older than twelve. Tears flowed down the boy's pale cheeks and his lips and body trembled uncontrollably. For an instant, the ice in Erik's eyes melted. _

_That was Erik's punishment…_

The look in that boy's terrified eyes still burned inside Erik's being, haunting him and tormenting him.

Only now, looking into Pierre's eyes from behind the mirrors of his torture chamber, Erik did not see the terrified, desperate, heartbreaking gaze of a little innocent boy. Instead, he saw the hatred and the bitterness of a man who wanted nothing but revenge, a man just like himself.

"_How ironic,"_ Erik thought bitterly.

_The monster had created a monster.  
_  
Pierre moaned in agony. The heat was starting to eat up his sanity and his being. His entire body ached beyond words and he felt as if he were being cooked alive.

"Do not worry. Soon you will be dead and your suffering will end," Erik's voice was bitter now, bitter with agony, bitter with guilt and he continued, "but know this, you will not be the only one to pay for your crimes…soon, my turn will come as well."

Erik's eyes were moist now, moist with infinite tears…tears of guilt…tears of pain…tears of suffering… tears that remained unshed.

With the blink of an eye, Erik left just as swiftly as he had appeared, leaving Pierre to suffer.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine stood on that stage, so innocent, so beautiful before that huge audience, still singing.

_And when the morning comes,  
My hands still reach out for you.  
Some things remain the same,  
There is nothing I can do.  
I can barely get through the day  
Ever since you went away._

_I can hear you whispering in the silence of my room,  
My heart still surrenders like the sun to the moon.  
I can barely stand this aching, burning endlessly._

_"Love me now forever,"  
Were your last words to me ..._

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik saw the police officers scattered all over the Opera House. They weren't dressed in their uniforms but in civilian attire so that no one would notice them.

"_Very clever,"_ Erik had thought sarcastically.

Now, the second part of his plan had to be carried out. He had to give proof to everyone that Christine had not warned him and that she wasn't his accomplice. In order to do that he would have to do something he regretted.

Standing on the stage, Christine went on to sing the last verse of the song:

_Heaven help us cross this endless sea  
With starlight above to guide you to me.  
Waves crashing on distant shores,  
They're calling our names forever more._

_And I still hear you whispering in the silence of my room,  
My heart still surrenders like the sun to the moon._

_I can barely stand this aching, burning endlessly.  
"Love me now forever,"  
Were the last words you said to me._

Erik's voice boomed in the theater, coming from everywhere and consuming everyone who heard it. Even Christine was startled. She didn't know what to expect.

"You betrayed me once and tonight you were going to betray me again, were you not?" Erik hissed.

The police looked around to try to find the source of the voice but to no avail. Bernard Frankoe, the head of the police department, ordered his men to stand down until the Phantom appeared.

"This may be easier than we thought. If the Phantom appears here tonight, we can easily catch him," Bernard whispered to his assistant, Remond.

Remond looked fearfully at his boss.

"The last time the Phantom appeared, he burned down the Opera House!" Remond answered nervously.

Bernard took a deep breath and suddenly asked with urgency, "Where is Pierre?"

Remond hesitated for a moment.

"He's supposed to be in his box but we haven't seen him, ever since he arrived tonight," he replied.

Bernard suddenly had a very uneasy feeling as he ordered, "Tell the men to be very careful and prepared. Remember, Pierre wants us to catch the Phantom alive."

Remond cautiously nodded.

Everyone in the crowd gasped as the voice seemed to circle them, threaten them and chain them. Christine stood there startled, _"What in the world are you doing, Erik?"  
_  
Out of the smoke, Erik appeared abruptly behind Christine on the stage, wearing his Don Juan outfit and mask. He grabbed Christine by the waist in front of all the audience and the police.

She gasped in fear.

"And Don Juan triumphs again!" he said menacingly.

Christine was beyond startled at Erik's tone and actions. She tried to fight against his grip, which also perplexed her. His voice seemed menacing and threatening and yet his grip was gentle. He gave just the amount of force needed to hold her to him so that she wouldn't be able to break free. It was as if he were trying not to hurt her in the least bit. But his voice said something else.

Erik noticed how startled and afraid she was and so to calm her down, Erik instantly whispered in her ear with his ethereal voice, "Trust me."

Without warning, he covered her mouth and nose with a wet piece of cloth. Christine fought a little against his grip but her strength was no match for his and the cloth swiftly gave its effects as Christine laid her head back helplessly on his strong shoulder.

Erik instantly pushed a button with his leg that opened a trap door. He and Christine fell down through it. Just when they were out of the stage, fire erupted on the stage and in box three, Pierre's box.

The crowd by now was in hysterics. They ran out through the exit doors.

Firmin and Andre almost had heart attacks. Carlotta was hysterical as her assistants tried to help her out of the theater.

The police rushed throughout all the Opera grounds in an attempt to find the Phantom who had obviously taken Pierre and kidnapped Christine - and who was now beyond a reasonable doubt, still alive.

x-x-x-x-x-x

In all the commotion, Madame Giry grabbed Jammes, one of the ballerinas, and asked frantically, "Where is Meg?"

The poor frightened girl replied with a shaking voice, "I don't know! But the last time I saw her, she was walking out of her room with a white half mask in her hand."

All of a sudden it became so hard to breathe as Madame let go of Jammes arm. With her hand instinctively pressed to her trembling heart, Madame Giry whispered to herself, _"Oh, no!"_

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik carried Christine in his arms down the dark cellars of the Opera House. He placed her gently in the boat and rowed toward his lair.

"Forgive me, my Angel. I had to do that, to save you," Erik whispered ever so lovingly as he softly pulled the beautiful silk crimson covers of the swan bed over her beautiful still figure. Christine slept ever so peacefully.

_And I still hear you whispering in the silence of my room,  
My heart still surrenders like the sun to the moon._

_I can barely stand this aching, burning endlessly.  
"Love me now forever,"  
Were the last words you said to me._


	31. Chapter 31

**I have a very special announcement to make, ladyKarol is my new beta reader! She will be the beta reader for both my stories! And she is the one, who has edited this chapter, to make it error free from any spelling, grammatical, or punctuation mistakes! She's just wonderful... Now all of you give her a hand! (claps) Woohoo!**

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**Chapter Thirty: (Guilt)**

Erik left Christine there, sleeping so peacefully.

Now, he could concentrate on the rest of his plan, knowing that she was safe and sound. Not to mention, that he definitely did not want her awake, while the rest of his plan took place.

Erik was still wearing his Don Juan outfit. The jacket that completed that outfit had been removed, so that he would be able to move more freely. Now, he was in the white shirt that he wore under the jacket, and his brown Don Juan pants.

Erik walked back into a different tunnel, back into the place where his torture chambers existed, back to the place where his darkness materialized. But as he was walking through the dark tunnels, with the stealth of a cat, and the deadliness of a shadow, he heard a moan, a low painful moan, coming from one of his tormenting rooms. Erik knew in which torture chamber he had left Pierre, and this was most definitely not it.

Erik stopped dead in his tracks for a moment, to listen more carefully, and there it was again, a low female moan, more like an exhausted sob. With great irritation, he went directly towards the door, and flung it open.

To his shock, there on the floor, lay poor Meg, pale, her face tear stained. It seemed like all her strength had been worn out; she looked beyond exhausted, and beyond scared; to top it all off, she could barely move. She lay there, almost unconscious, still trying to make any noise, so that maybe someone would find her.

Erik also noticed that she was clutching a white half mask, in her right hand. The mask that he had lost, the last time the mob had invaded his lair.

Cursing under his breath, Erik swiftly walked up to her, and picked her up in his arms, as he muttered, in annoyance, "Damn!"

Meg had fainted completely in his arms, now. The mask, however, remained fastened in her grip, as Erik carried her out of that horrible room.

He carried her back down to his lair, because he knew that he couldn't go back up to the Opera house, to place Meg in her room, on her bed. By now the tunnels were being invaded by the police officers, and the trap doors which Erik had improved, and redesigned, with even more genius, would be waiting for them.

And so, he placed Meg on a nice bed, in a room next to the one in which Christine was sleeping. The poor girl was soaked with sweat, she still trembled, and made small crying noises. Erik cursed himself for not locking the doors of the torture chambers.

She looked like a shattered rose, her beautiful red dancing dress was tattered and torn. Her rosy face was now pale, and deathly looking. Her beautiful long blond hair, was now messy, and drowned in sweat. The poor thing looked terrified and exhausted.

Erik left her there to rest. He had other things to attend to, and the little stunt that Meg had pulled, had already cost him precious time, which he needed, if his plan was going to work.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Back to where his torture chambers were, back to where Pierre was. Now there would be no more distractions.

First, Erik turned off the light, which was causing the torture chamber to heat up to an unbearable degree. Then, he opened the door of the torture chamber, to find Pierre lying on the floor, unconscious.

And for a moment, Erik found himself admiring the man's courage. Pierre hadn't killed himself.

Usually people who were thrown into the torture chamber for that long, cast into the illusion that they were in an African forest, where the heat was ruthless and unbearable, and dangerous animals lurked around, an illusion created by the mirrors, killed themselves before getting this far. But Pierre had fought till the last minute, it seemed. And he hadn't tied that noose around his own neck.

Erik dragged him outside. He then instinctively bent down, and checked his pulse. And he found, to his relief, that Pierre was still alive.

"_Relief?"_ Erik thought in confusion, highly irritated with himself, _"Why am I relieved that he isn't dead?"_

But a small whisper coming from the depths of his heart, answered in reply, _"Because of your guilt, Erik…your guilt."_

Erik sighed, as he swiftly tried to shake those feelings away, reminding himself of his words to Pierre, _"You'll realize, that you can do things a lot more efficiently, with your emotions set aside." _

Try as he might, Erik found that all he could see before him, was the image of an innocent, trembling twelve year old boy, hiding behind his father's office door, his brown eyes, filled with terror and shock, and soaked with tears, at the sight of his father's death.

Erik wanted to kill Pierre, to cut him to pieces, not just because of what he had done to Christine and Meg, but because the sight of Pierre was so unbearable to Erik, it tormented him, and it reminded him of his guilt. And yet, Erik couldn't bring himself to do it.

It became painfully obvious to Erik that there was only one way out of this. There was only one way in which Erik could bring himself to kill Pierre, without all the torment and the guilt he knew he would feel afterwards.

"You're very fortunate, boy. I have foolishly become soft, and it seems that you will benefit from it,"Erik whispered in disgust at himself.

Erik dragged Pierre, and chained him up to the wall, in a room adjacent to the torture chamber. Then, he got a bucket of water, and splashed it on Pierre, whose head shot up abruptly, as his eyes opened, and he gasped, in shocked response. Pierre had awoken from his unconsciousness, as a result. But when he tried to move away from the wall, he found that he was chained to it. Pierre's struggles to break free ceased, as his sight fell upon the tall, dark figure standing before him.

As Pierre tried to catch his breath, Erik started walking back and forth in front of him, in silent thought.

Pierre was still in pain. His entire body still ached from that scourging heat that he had been subjected to. And he could feel his dry tongue, and his sore throat, screaming for one drop of water. His lips were chapped so badly, as Pierre pathetically licked the water from around them - the remains of the water that Erik had splashed on him - in an attempt to quench that excruciating thirst he felt.

Erik suddenly stopped walking, as he turned around to face Pierre, and calmly said, "I believe that you are thirsty?"

It was more of a statement than a question, but none the less, Pierre replied by nodding his head weakly. He couldn't play strong now, not when his body screamed for water.

Erik walked away from him, and into the darkness of the room that was dimly lit by two candles, placed next to the wall where Pierre was chained. A few moments later, Erik emerged with a big, clay cup filled with water in his hands. Erik brought the cup up to Pierre's face, as Pierre impulsively buried his mouth in it, vehemently drinking the water.

After a few moments, when Pierre was done, Erik withdrew the cup and placed it next to him, on an empty table that stood alone, in that old, empty, damp room.

After a few minutes, when Pierre had regained his composure, and felt stronger, he asked coldly, "So what… are you going to kill me now?"

"No," was Erik's indifferent reply.

Pierre's eyebrows narrowed, as curiosity got the best of him, and he asked again, "So what are you going to do with me?" Then he continued sarcastically, "Torture me some more?"

Erik looked at Pierre, his piercing deadly eyes met Pierre's cold cruel ones, as Erik hissed in reply, "Don't tempt me boy. I might just as well torture you some more, if you keep on talking, or maybe just kill you and get it over with."

"Then why don't you?" Pierre hissed back defiantly. "I have nothing to lose. I couldn't care less if you killed me."

"Oh, really," Erik replied amusedly, as he continued, "And I suppose you wouldn't care about your life, even if you knew that I am about to give you the chance to kill me?"

Pierre's jaw dropped; he had definitely not expected that reply. But after a few moments, when he had regained his stony expression, he replied cautiously, "What game are you playing now, Phantom?"

Erik looked coldly at Pierre, as he replied calmly, but firmly, "A fair fight, to the death."

x-x-x-x-x-x

Yes, Guilt is a terrible feeling…Guilt is a horrible feeling…But what everyone fails to mention, is that sometimes, guilt can turn into a deadly battle of life and death.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty One: (To Death)**

Madame Giry rushed towards the cellars of the Opera house in a frantic attempt to find her daughter, but the police stopped her.

They had closed all the entrances to the cellars.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Meg opened her eyes to find herself in a strange room. Cautiously, she got up from the bed and walked out of the room. The whole place was dark and yet familiar, as if she had been there before.

Then it hit her - this was the phantom's lair; Meg's heart started beating with dread and excitement, as visions of him carrying her rushed to her mind. Another chilling fear ran up and down her spine, as she remembered how she had gotten lost. She had entered the wrong underground tunnel and fallen into that horrific room.

Meg didn't know what that awful room was meant for, but her heart had filled with fear, as she remembered the terrible moments she had spent locked inside that hell, trying to get out, thinking that she was going to die.

"_Torment!"_ Meg thought with horror. _"That's what that room was meant for… Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?" _

Having walking out of the bed room that she had been in, still wearing her tattered red dress, and her hair tumbling around her face, Meg advanced into the main area of the lair, where Erik's piano was. The swan bed came into sight. Meg's jaw dropped - for there was Christine, asleep!

Meg had left the stage after her solo dance, and had disappeared swiftly down into the cellars, without waiting to listen to Christine's part. She had wanted to return the mask as quickly as possible and go back up to the Opera house, so that her mother wouldn't notice her missing. As a result, Meg had missed the phantom's big display, when he had kidnapped Christine from the stage.

Everything in Meg's plan was going wrong. She had lost her way, fallen into some kind of horrible chamber, and been carried back to the Phantom's lair by the Phantom himself!

Meg couldn't help feeling guilty because she knew her mother would be worried sick about her.

"_If only I wasn't so nosy,"_ Meg silently scolded herself.

As she looked around at that enchanting place, her eyes fell upon the boat. Her heart fluttered in her chest. The boat would help her cross the lake, and then she could find her way back up to the Opera house.

Meg hesitantly stepped into the boat, and started rowing, all the while wondering where the Phantom was, and if she should leave Christine there.

"_Well, Erik IS her husband, and she loves him. I don't think there's anything dangerous about leaving Christine here, where Erik brought her in the first place,"_ Meg reassured herself.

Once on the other side of the lake, Meg clumsily stepped out of the boat. She finally allowed herself a deep breath of relief.

The first step in getting out of that place was accomplished.

"_Now, if only I can find the right passage way." _

Meg had only been to the Phantom's lair once. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember which was the right passage way. Based mainly on instinct, she took her chances and walked down one tunnel that seemed somewhat familiar to her.

"_And, like the old saying goes,"_ Meg thought to herself, in an attempt to calm her fears, _"all roads lead to Rome – I hope!" _

As she continued walking into the tunnel, she took a deep breath and continued in her silent analysis. _"All these tunnels, in the end, will lead to the same place… out of the underground…they must…" _

Meg walked further into the tunnel. She came to a sudden halt, as she realized with a rising surge of fear that she was in the same tunnel that she had been walking in when she had fallen into that horrible room! Yes, now she remembered it so clearly. She had stopped for a minute to rest, laying her back against the wall. Suddenly, the wall had opened; she had fallen into the room, as the wall closed back again, trapping her inside that tormenting place.

A million thoughts were rushing through her head when Meg suddenly heard a noise, and that noise snapped her out of her silent, panic attack. She strained her ears to listen; the sound seemed to come from farther inside the tunnel - the sound of a man's voice -speaking. Meg knew that voice; it was familiar. In shock, she recognized the voice of the speaker - it was Pierre!

Meg nervously walked towards the source of the voice. She stopped, when she was close enough to be able to listen clearly.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"…Where?" Pierre asked cautiously.

"The cemetery," Erik replied casually.

He was now sitting on a chair by the empty table, holding a cup of wine in his hands. Erik swirled the wine a little in his cup, before sipping it.

Pierre narrowed his eyes, in curiosity and confusion, as he asked sarcastically, "You want us to fight in the cemetery?"

Erik looked up at Pierre with great irritation, eyeing him fiercely and threateningly. He snarled, "Yes, the cemetery. Is the concept so hard for you to perceive?"

Erik shook his head in disgust, as he continued "We can't fight here, because your friends, the police officers you hired to catch me, are all around this Opera house, searching for me and you, although they won't be trouble for much longer."

In answer to Pierre's questioning look, Erik rose from the chair, and walked over to Pierre, as he went on with great amusement, "Yes, Pierre, I've planned everything. Those who went into the cellars of this Opera house searching for me will probably never come out alive. They don't call me the lover of trapdoors for nothing, you know."

Pierre, who was still chained to the wall, couldn't hide his shock, as Erik calmly added, a deadly ambience blooming in his voice, "Not to mention that the cemetery would make things a lot easier. What better place for one to die, than in a graveyard. Very fitting, don't you think?"

Erik eyed Pierre again.

"Think of it this way, Pierre. We'll be fighting in our final destination. It would save me the trouble of having to drag your body all the way to the cemetery to bury you," Erik continued darkly

"If you fall in the cemetery, you're already in a graveyard," Pierre replied, with sudden realization.

"Ingenious of me, isn't it?" Erik smirked, with cruel amusement.

Pierre's eyes snapped up, to look at Erik's deadly ones, as he hissed back, "Your sense of humor never fails to amuse me, Phantom. Fighting you in a graveyard will make things easier for me, because you're the one who's going to die."

"Perhaps," Erik replied coldly and casually, his indifference causing Pierre's nerves to be on edge.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Meg listened to the conversation, all the while not believing her ears. Chills of cold terror ran up and down her spine. Erik's cold and menacing voice frightened her. The thing that disturbed her the most was how casually both men were talking about death and murder.

God knows she hated Pierre with all her heart, but she never wished for anyone to die.

What was happening now, before her, seemed beyond insane. It confused her, for why would Erik risk his life, and give Pierre a chance to kill him? Why didn't Erik just kill him right then and there?

Suddenly Meg found herself outraged by her own thoughts.

"_This is insanity!…Oh God, they're going to kill each other!"_ Meg exclaimed to herself in horror, suddenly realizing that if there was one person who could end this madness, it was Christine. Erik would listen to only her.

As quietly as possible, Meg walked back down the tunnel, carefully returning the same way she had come.

She had to tell Christine.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik raised his glass of wine, as he toasted coldly and calmly, "To death, then."

The cruel irony of it all came piercing through the walls, like a razor sharp knife.

From where he was, chained to the wall, Pierre replied coldly in return, "To death."

Erik drank the last of his wine, before the final showdown… a toast to death.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty Two: (Nightmare Reprise)**

_Christine walked down the underground tunnel, leading the mob to Erik's lair, just as she had agreed. Pierre was smiling widely in satisfaction. Christine's heart was beating like a drum, beating with fear, beating with agony. She knew that now she had lost Erik forever. He would never forgive her betrayal a second time. _

_Tears were silently rolling down her cheeks, as she started contemplating ways to escape this horrible situation in which she now found herself. _

"_I should have followed my heart… I should have told Erik about the plan… Why did I stay silent? Why?" Christine thought desperately. Now, after her big performance, she was the one leading the mob through the safe passage way that she herself had learned and used to get to Erik's lair over the past month. She wished that she didn't know the way; she wished that she had stayed lost._

"_Maybe, if I lead them through a wrong tunnel, they won't find Erik's lair. I don't care if we can't find our way out. I would rather die lost, knowing that Erik loves me, than die found, knowing that Erik hates me," Christine thought desperately._

_Suddenly, Christine was in the lair, standing behind Erik, who was sitting at his piano, composing. _

_Her angel of music turned around, surprised to see her in his lair instead of upstairs in the Opera house receiving congratulations from her many fans and admirers after her big performance, which he thought was wonderful. _

_As he looked at her, studying her trembling body and nervousness, she walked up to him. Without saying a word, she cupped his exposed cheek with her hand. Erik closed his eyes, taking in the unparalleled magical sensation of her touch. With all the strength she had left inside, she firmly ripped the mask off, causing Erik to violently jerk away from her, throwing her on the floor, as he roared, "You little Delilah!"_

_But before he had a chance to continue, the mob had come out of their hiding places. They surrounded him, and began to hit him and stab him with their knives. Erik tried to fight back. They were too many, against one unarmed, unmasked man._

_Christine screamed frantically for them to stop, all the while trying to explain to Erik that she had no choice but to do what she did, and that she never wanted to betray him. A calm, loud voice rang out above all that terrible chaos, silencing her, and the mob. They stopped hitting Erik, who was now on the floor, bloodied and gravely wounded from their merciless knives and blows, as Pierre victoriously gloated, "Thank you, Christine." _

_Pierre appeared from behind the shadows wearing a mask, holding a sword in his hand. Erik struggled to get up. His struggles were futile - he was wounded too badly. _

_Pierre continued with a wide, cold smile, and a great deal of cruel amusement, while cupping Christine's face with his free hand, "You led me right to him, just like I expected you to do."_

_Christine shook her head and violently slapped his hand away from her tear stained cheeks. She stumbled backwards, a few steps away from Pierre, and away from where Erik lay, as she screamed, "NO! … NO! …"_

_Her gut ripping screams cut through the silence like knives, leaving deep agonizing wounds in her soul and her heart. She ran to where Erik lay on the floor, tears streaming down her face like waterfalls. She held him in her arms, while the blood seeped from his open wounds like a crimson river. Christine caressed his bloody face in her hands, as she put his head on her lap, not caring that her beautiful, expensive golden dress had gotten stained by the crimson blood…Erik's blood, her angel's blood. _

_Her tears fell on Erik's face. He faintly lifted one of his hands, and gently touched her brown curls, as agonizing breaths wracked his body. Blood trickled from his mouth, and rolled down his neck, caressing Christine's already bloody hands._

"_You betrayed me," he whispered to her, his eyes cold and piercing. Even as he lay dying, he could still cut through her soul with his gaze. _

_Christine shook her head, as she replied between agonizing sobs, "No…No… I didn't mean to…I had no choice-"_

"_I've had enough of this little romantic reunion," Pierre snarled, greatly aggravated, cutting through Christine's sentence. _

_He gave the signal to his men, the bribed police officers. They grabbed Christine and dragged her away from Erik. She screamed and struggled against their grip, but it was a futile fight. Erik lay on the cold hard floor, his breathing heavy and painful, as he started drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness. _

_Pierre victoriously looked down on Erik, a sword gripped in his hand, as he hissed, "Not so powerful now, Phantom, are you?" _

_Erik didn't reply. He lay there, waiting for Pierre to finish him off. He had no reason to live anymore. Christine had ruthlessly betrayed him twice. His feelings for her ranged from vicious hate to deep agonizing love. _

_All the while struggling under the firm grip of the two men who held her by the arms, Christine's screams and pleas fell on deaf ears, as she begged Pierre not to kill Erik and she begged Erik to fight. _

_Pierre traced his blade across Erik's neck, as he said calmly, "Do you hear that? ... Your Delilah is begging me not to kill you." He continued with great amusement, "How very fitting of her, when she could have prevented all of this from the beginning, by trusting YOU, instead of trusting ME." _

_With a wide cruel smile on his lips, Pierre looked mockingly at Christine. And if looks could kill, Christine's eyes would have killed Pierre in that instant. Pierre turned back towards Erik and continued, "But in the end, she would rather trust a stranger like me, than trust you. That, in and of itself, says a lot about her love for you." _

_Pierre's tone dripped with poison. Every word he said cut through Christine's heart like a razor. Erik's heart had passed the point of feeling pain anymore. He just lay there in complete surrender, gravely wounded, just like he had wounded Pierre once before, in masquerade. It was obvious Erik didn't want to fight for his life; he was just waiting for death to come._

_Pierre raised his sword, as Christine's eyes met Erik's cold ones, in a heartbreaking gaze. Pierre thrust his sword into Erik's heart, as Erik let out one last moan of pain and closed his eyes forever. Pierre's voice was trembling now, as he said between labored breaths, "You should have killed me when you had the chance."_

_Pierre withdrew the blade from Erik's heart, the blood dripping from the sword's edges, like silent tears. _

_Christine's gut wrenching cries filled the silence of that labyrinth, and echoed in its cold, dark corners._

"Christine! …Christine! Wake up!" came Meg's frantic voice as she shook Christine by the shoulders – Christine, who was screaming, "No!…Angel! I'm so sorry!"

Meg shook Christine again. Christine's eyes flew open; she flung herself upright in the bed, the warm tears rolling down her face. Meg held Christine in an embrace, as she went on to say, "Christine, it was just a nightmare…you were dreaming."

Christine shuddered with relief, as she hugged Meg tightly in return, and whispered, "Oh, Meg, it was horrible…it was terrible…I would rather die…I would rather die."

"It's all right …it was just a nightmare, Christine, nothing more," Meg replied softly.

Christine swallowed hard, and pulling away from Meg, she wiped away her tears. As she took a deep breath, calmness started to descend upon her. Christine rose up from the swan bed, and looked around for a moment. She was in Erik's lair. Now she remembered what had happened, and how Erik had kidnapped her from the stage.

Suddenly, she turned around; looking at her friend curiously, she asked, "Meg…what are you doing here?"

Meg shook her head, as she stood and walked towards her friend, a look of exhaustion and fear appearing on her face.

"It's a long story, Christine. I will tell you later," Meg replied tiredly.

Suddenly Meg's voice became frantic, as she remembered why she had come back for her friend in the first place, and she exclaimed, "Christine, you must come with me now. Erik and Pierre are going to kill each other, if you don't interfere."

Christine's face, that face which had started to regain some of its color, now turned ashen, and a look of confusion and dread reappeared in her eyes.

Meg's hazel eyes were filled with fear and worry, as she tugged on Christine's arm. Snapping Christine out of her shock, she said urgently, "Come on, Christine! We don't have much time!"

Christine silently followed Meg, her heart beating like a drum. What game was fate playing now?

"_Why?"_ Christine thought as she got into the boat with her friend, _"Why does life have to be so cruel?"_

Both women, so tired and fatigued, rowed towards the unknown, with every passing moment, dreading what they might find. And Meg proceeded to tell Christine about the conversation she had overheard between Erik and Pierre and the duel they were to fight in the cemetery.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik had untied Pierre's legs and had unchained him from the wall. He was dragging Pierre behind him by the rope that still tied his hands together. Pierre walked behind Erik, stumbling every now and then, because he did not know the passage ways as well as his captor.

Eventually, they came outside the Opera house, a few miles away from it. Two horses were waiting in that desolate place for them, grazing on the bushes.

Erik ordered Pierre to get on the brown horse. Pierre did, for what other choice did he have? Erik, on the other hand, rode on Cesar, his horse, the horse that he had stolen from the Opera stables.

Erik had tied both horses together by a rope, causing the horses to be only a few feet apart from each other.

They rode towards the cemetery, as the dawn was beginning to bloom.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Meg stood inside that empty, cold, dark room, where she had heard Erik and Pierre talking. She stood frozen for a few moments, then slowly turned towards Christine. Christine was standing in the doorway, looking at the empty room, which had nothing in it except an old table and chair, and a wall that had chains dangling on it – chains used to shackle people to the wall. Christine's breathing was becoming heavy with anxiety.

Meg looked at Christine, her eyes filled with worry, her voice filled with panic, "Oh, my God, Christine, we're too late!"

Christine stood frozen; her mind refused to process any more information. The shock, the horror of it all, crippled Christine's soul, causing chills to rise up her spine.

Suddenly, something inside of her snapped. Maybe it was that primal feeling of survival, maybe it was that instinct of protecting loved ones, as she replied firmly, "No, we're not too late. I will take a horse, and I will follow them to the cemetery."

Adrenaline was pumping through Christine's veins, as she continued, "I will not… I refuse to… lose Erik again."

Meg was surprised by her friend's rising surge of strength and courage. Christine, who had always been so gentle and fragile, now beamed with strength, not fear, not panic, but resolve and courage. Christine was going to save the man she loved, no matter what.

As Christine turned to go to the stables, Meg grabbed her arm, and said firmly, leaving no place for argument, "I'm coming with you."

x-x-x-x-x-x

The cemetery was empty and silent, just like death. Large statues of angels were present everywhere, like silent mourners. Soft, gentle mist floated everywhere, making it hard to see, as the morning breeze hummed its symphony.

Erik dismounted his horse, while Pierre struggled since his hands were tied, but managed in the end to get down from his horse as well. Erik grabbed the rope and dragged Pierre behind him again. They walked until they reached the center of the cemetery where the silent angel statues surrounded them. Erik let go of the rope that held Pierre's hands bound.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine and Meg sped down the silent, empty streets of Paris, heading towards the cemetery. Although both women didn't have much experience riding horses, they still knew the basics.

Christine silently prayed, _"Please, God, don't let it be too late." _

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik and Pierre moved in circles stalking each other, like two predators ready to attack their prey. Each of them held a sword in his hand, raised up in a ready position. Erik had freed Pierre's hands, had given him a sword, and now the final showdown had begun.

They lunged at each other and the sound of clashing metal could be heard all around the silent cemetery, as Erik and Pierre fought. That deadly sound of ringing steel blades, wielded by two men determined to kill each other, continued until Erik hissed in pain and stepped back, clutching his left arm. Pierre had surprised him and cut his fore arm.

After a few moments of complete silence and cautious circling, they were back to facing each other, menacingly and threateningly, their swords clashing again.

Pierre asked, with all the rage and pain he felt, as their swords came together once more, "Tell me why?" referring to why Erik had killed his father.

Understanding the full meaning of Pierre's question, Erik replied cruelly, "Because I could."

Their swords clashed again with ferocity, as Pierre's blood boiled with rage and hate. It wasn't long before Erik had caused Pierre to lose his sword with one strong swing, and the blade of Erik's sword caressed Pierre's neck. Pierre stood still, completely frozen, as he felt the cold, deadly metal on his skin. Silently, he waited for Erik to give the final blow, as fear crept through him. He would be damned if he was going to beg Erik for mercy. No, Pierre had decided that he would rather die with dignity and honor.

Erik just stared at him, the blade intact in its place, not moving it from Pierre's neck, as he snarled, "You want to know why I killed your father, Pierre? Hmm? Do you?"

Erik's rage was taking control of him. The blade sank a little deeper into Pierre's neck, cutting through his skin and causing blood to gush out. Pierre hissed in pain, as his breath caught in his throat, with the knowledge that if he were to breathe a little deeper, the blade would cut deeper into his skin.

Erik had started to calm down, as he continued, with a bitter voice this time, "The reason I killed your father, boy, is because I WAS a monster. I AM a monster."

Calm overtook Erik, and the tormented look that had formed in his eyes, faded away, to be replaced by ice.

"I killed him because he got in my way. Are you satisfied now?" Erik continued with cruel amusement.

Yes, Erik had learned to control his emotions. He had learned to be cruel, so very cruel. Now, he let his dark side take him over completely, as he hissed heartlessly, "And I will kill you, just like I killed your father."

Erik raised his sword in the air, as Pierre fell to his knees on the ground, blood still seeping down his neck. Pierre took a deep breath and closed his eyes, ready to receive the final blow, with all the courage he could muster. As Erik's hand was ready to go down and cut Pierre's head off, a voice stopped him. A melodious cry made him freeze in his place.

"No, Erik! Please, don't!" Christine called out to him pleadingly, as she dismounted her horse.

Christine's voice rang through Erik's being, bringing his heart back. This was his chance to get rid of Pierre, without his conscience tormenting him later on. Now, he couldn't even do that, because of Christine. Christine was running towards Erik, with her beautiful golden dress.

Erik felt a small hand brush against his free arm, over the white fabric of his shirt, as her beautiful, soft voice begged him again, "Erik, please, don't."

Erik took a deep breath, as all the emotions that Christine provoked in him came to life again. He slowly brought his hand down. He moved away from Pierre and put his sword back in the scabbard at his waist. He turned around to face Christine. She was looking up at him with beautiful, frightened brown eyes. Just as he had raised his hand and was about to caress her face, a voice pierced the calmness, as Meg, who was still several feet away, screamed, "Look out!"

From where she was standing, Meg had seen Pierre reach for his sword and rise up, ready to strike at Erik, who was completely taken by Christine. Upon Meg's scream, Erik spun around to face Pierre. Before he had a chance to do anything, a sword pierced his skin, below his heart by only a few inches. Blood came flooding out, as Erik moaned in pain, and slowly fell to the ground. Christine screamed that gut wrenching scream that cut through the silence of the dawn like a knife.

Pierre looked down at Erik, as he withdrew the blade of his sword from Erik's chest, and said with a tormented voice, "This is for all the pain that you've caused me. This is for my father, and my shattered life. Just like you pierced my heart, and killed it a long time ago."

Erik didn't reply. The pain was too overwhelming. Christine fell to the cold ground beside him. Pierre swiftly retreated through the cemetery, jumped on the brown horse and rode quickly from the scene of the crime, feeling victorious, and bitter, and empty, all at the same time. He had had his sweet revenge at last. Christine put Erik's head in her lap, as her hands cradled his face, and her tears fell down her cheeks, like beautiful morning dew. Erik's mask had fallen off. Christine was now looking down at him. There were no more masks between them.

Erik raised his hand softly and touched Christine's wet cheek, wiping away her tears, as he slowly and painfully whispered, "Don't cry, my angel, please, don't cry."

Christine only sobbed harder, as she whispered, "This is all my fault…this is all my fault."

"Don't ever think that," was Erik's frail reply.

Christine bent her head, and kissed his face, his good cheek, his deformed cheek, bathing him in the wonder of her tears. Erik thought that he was in heaven for a moment.

"I love you," Christine breathed, between anguished sobs.

"I…love…you…too," came Erik's slow and labored reply, as a tear fell down from his beautiful eyes, and he drifted into complete darkness.

"No," Christine whispered frantically. "Erik! …Erik! Wake up! Wake up!"

Her voice was not a hoarse tormented whisper any longer, but had risen to a tormented scream, as she begged Erik to wake. She shook him by the shoulders, begging him to wake, not caring how smothered with blood her beautiful golden dress had become.

"Wake Up!"

Yes, sometimes, it's the nightmare that comes true. Sometimes, it's the nightmare that comes to life. And, when the nightmare turns into reality, reality becomes a nightmare.

Even the silent angels of the cemetery seemed to weep with Christine.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty Three: (Little Lotte)**

As she watched that heart wrenching scene - a scene that she would never forget her entire life – Meg stood frozen. Christine's crystal tears mixing with Erik's crimson blood -Meg couldn't even begin to describe that hauntingly tragic picture. Standing there, watching in silence, awe, and grief, something snapped inside of her. She fell to the ground next to Christine and took Erik's cold hand in hers. Meg pressed two fingers to his wrist, checking his pulse. In all her turmoil, Christine hadn't even thought about that. "He's alive! Christine, there's a pulse! He's not dead!" Meg exclaimed, her entire face lighting up with hope.

Stifling a sob of relief, Christine looked at her friend.

"Meg, get help! Go to the church ...it's not far …get Father Thomas! …Hurry!" Christine frantically exclaimed.

Meg nodded and swiftly rose from the ground. She mounted her horse and sped toward the church at the edge of the cemetery.

Christine stayed on the ground, cradling Erik in her arms, trying desperately to keep him warm. He looked so pale, so cold so lifeless - Christine's heart trembled at the thought.

_Little Lotte, thought of everything and nothing. Her father promised her that he would send her the angel of music…Her father promised her…Her father promised her…_

Christine began to sing, her voice trembling and wavering with the worry and the grief that she felt, as it echoed through the silence of the cemetery.

_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses_

_Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor  
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender  
Turn your face away from the garish light of day  
Turn your face away from cold, unfeeling light  
And listen to the music of the night_

_Close you eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams  
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before  
Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar  
And you'll live as you've never lived before_

_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you  
Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you  
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind  
In this darkness which you know you cannot fight  
The darkness of the music of the night_

_Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world  
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before  
Let your soul take you where you long to be  
Only then can you belong to me_

_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication  
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation  
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in  
To the harmony which dreams alone can write  
The power of the music of the night_

_You alone can make my song take flight  
Help me make the music of the night_

As Christine sang the last note, her voice soaring in the silence of the dawn with a beauty that could make the heavens cry, tears streamed down her cheeks, and silence fell in the cemetery once again.

"Very beautifully sung," someone stated with admiration.

Christine's head snapped up, as she frantically looked around to find the source of the voice. Through the mist, walking towards her and Erik, was a man. Swiftly, Christine stood, leaving Erik on the ground. With all her strength, she picked up Erik's sword and pointed it at the man, who kept coming closer to them. Christine's hand trembled - she had never held a sword before - and it was heavy. She would be damned if she allowed anyone to harm her angel ever again.

The man stood a few feet away from Christine and Erik. She could see his features, his face. He had jade eyes and tanned skin.

"Who are you?" Christine asked with all the courage and the strength she had left.

"Just a friend," replied the man. He had a strange accent.

Christine continued pointing the sword at his heart.

The man looked at her for a moment, studying her with his jade eyes, and continued calmly, "I assure you, Mademoiselle, there is no need for the sword. I mean you no harm. I know Erik. I am his friend."

Christine's hand was shaking so violently, the sword fell from her grasp. She fell back to the ground and took Erik once again in her arms. She raised her head, eyeing the man, as she asked cautiously, logic and sense washing over her again, "Who are you?"

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Nadir Khan. I have known Erik for a very long time. It is a long story."

He looked at Christine, who was studying him very carefully, as she tried to decide whether to believe him or not. Knowing how desperately she needed help, she knew she had no other choice but to trust him.

"He's gravely wounded, but he's still alive. I am trying to keep him warm, until my friend comes back with help," Christine said frantically.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks once more, and her lower lip was trembling.

Nadir got down on his knees and checked Erik's pulse. He replied, concern evident in his voice and expression, "His pulse is very weak. He needs help immediately."

"There's a church nearby. I sent Meg, my friend, to get help," Christine replied desperately.

"If he is to survive, we are going to have to move him now," Nadir said firmly. He rose, getting ready to try and lift Erik from the ground.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves was heard, horses approaching. Christine's breath caught in her chest, afraid it might be the police.

Nadir impulsively grabbed Erik's sword and swung around, ready to fight to protect his friend. That caught Christine's attention, too.

"Christine!" Meg called out, dismounting her horse and running toward her friend.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik was placed in a room in the back of the church. It was well furnished and there was a large cross hanging on the wall by the bed. There was also a fireplace, which kept the room warm.

_The sanctuary of the church…_

After they had placed Erik on the bed, Christine exclaimed, "We're going to need a doctor."

"Leave that to me. I will have warm water and a clean cloth brought to you. Start cleaning his wound. We do not want it to get infected," Nadir ordered.

Christine nodded, as Nadir turned and left the room to get the doctor.

Father Thomas, in turn, left the room with Meg, so that he could bring warm water and a clean cloth, and so that Meg could obtain clean clothes for Christine and Erik.

Christine stayed by Erik's side, silently praying that he would survive.

She and Erik had gotten married in this same church, on that magical night that still burned in Christine's heart and soul.

"_In this church we were forever united… and now, in this same church, we might be forever separated,"_ Christine thought in silent sorrow.

"Please, don't leave me," she whispered in that heart wrenching whisper.

Somewhere, deep inside the universe of his aching soul, Erik listened.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Meg entered an Opera House that was swarming with police officers and detectives. She had managed to sneak in, without causing any suspicion. She tried as much as possible to stay out of sight. The few people who did see her thought she was just another one of the performers from the Opera house, who had been there during the fire. To Meg's relief, that also explained her messy hair and tattered red dress.

She swiftly made her way through the halls and to her room, silently praying that none of the other ballet girls would spot her. To her relief, everything went well. When she opened the door of her room and stepped inside, she gasped, for there, sitting on her bed, was her mother. "Maman, you scared me half to death! What are you doing in my room?"

Madame's eyes were red, as if she had been crying. She rose from her daughter's bed, where she had been waiting, and walked toward Meg. Meg took a deep breath, knowing full well that she was in trouble.

Madame exclaimed angrily, "Where were you, young lady? All night long, I have been worried sick about you! How much more do you think my heart can take? Tell me, Meg, do you wish to kill me with worry?"

Meg chewed on her lower lip as she looked down at her feet, ashamed, feeling so incredibly guilty. She raised her head, her hazel eyes meeting her mother's angry blue ones, as she replied, apologetically and timidly, "I'm sorry, Maman."

Madame looked her daughter straight in the eye, and ordered angrily, "Oh, no. That won't do, young lady. Now, you will tell me everything. Is that understood?"

Meg nodded, as she frantically started to babble, "Oh, Maman, that's why I'm here…Erik is gravely wounded…we took him to the church…I came here to get some clean clothes for Christine and Erik…I couldn't go to her room because I know that her room will be swarming with police officers who are investigating… and since she's close to my size, I thought I could get her some of my clothes…we don't have much time…"

Madame's anger had subsided somewhat.

"Meg, Meg, calm down!" Madame cut through her daughter's frantic phrases.

Meg stopped her chaotic tale and looked apologetically at her mother. Antoinette had calmed down. A look of concern appeared on her stern face, as a picture of what had happened during the previous night started to form in her mind.

Madame grabbed her daughter by the arm and ordered, "You'll tell me the rest on the way. Now, get one of your dresses. Hurry!"

Meg nodded vehemently, as she asked, "What about Erik, Maman. He needs clean, dry clothes as well!"

"I'll get him something from the costumes in the outfit room…wait here for me. Don't you dare leave your room until I come back." With that last warning, Madame swiftly left her daughter's room.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine had unbuttoned Erik's shirt to reveal his bloody chest. Dipping the clean cloth that Father Thomas had provided into the warm water, she gently and lovingly started to wipe away the blood from his skin, as she softly began to clean the wound.

The sight of all that blood caused Christine's heart to shiver, which spread to her body and her bloodied hands. Christine stared at the now blood red – previously white – cloth as it caressed her angel's wounded chest. She submerged the cloth back into the bowl of clean water, and the water turned red from all the blood. Christine had a sudden and terrible urge to scream and scream, until she fell dead.

"_Why does everything have to end in blood? So much blood…so much blood!"_ her heart screamed in anguish, over and over again.

Christine took a deep breath, and continued cleaning Erik's wound. Her hand was trembling so badly, she thought the cloth would fall to the ground. Willing with all her might, she kept herself composed and controlled. Erik needed her desperately now. She would be there for him, just as he had always been there for her.

Looking up at the crucifix hanging on the wall, like a silent witness, Christine whispered from the depths of her heart, soul, and being, "Oh, please, my Lord, bring him back to me. Please, don't take him away. I won't be able to survive without him…please, bring him back to me."

_But what I love best, Lotte said, is when I'm asleep in my bed, and the angel of music sings songs in my head…the angel of music sings songs in my head…_

x-x-x-x-x-x

Father Thomas was praying in front of the large crucifix in the chapel of the church. He was praying for Christine, for Erik, and for all those who were suffering, when the Persian's voice brought him out of his reverie.

"I have brought the doctor," Nadir said urgently.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Everyone waited outside the sick room, as the doctor examined Erik. Those moments of waiting seemed like forever.

Christine looked miserable sitting in a chair, so completely drained and exhausted.

"Christine, child, relax," Father Thomas said compassionately to her, his voice filled with concern and care.

"I can't," Christine replied faintly, her voice barely audible, sore from crying so much.

"I've brought you clean clothes, Christine!" Meg's voice rang out, filled with worry, cutting through that torturous silence - the silence of the wait…the wait to find out if Erik would survive or not.

"My dear, are you all right?" Madame's concerned, calm voice rang above her daughter's frantic one.

Christine nodded, as Meg said, "Here, Christine, let me help you to the other room, so you can change."

"No," Christine replied with a sob. "I want to know how Erik is first."

"Christine, pull yourself together. This is not the time for you to break down. You have to be strong, if not for yourself, then for Erik, and the baby that you carry!" Madame ordered firmly.

Meg's jaw dropped at the news, but the Persian did not look surprised.

Christine took a deep, labored breath. Wiping away her tears, she nodded and slowly pushed herself up from her chair.

"You're right," Christine whispered in reply, allowing Meg to escort her to the other room.

Alone now with Nadir Khan and Father Thomas, Madame eyed Nadir keenly, as she asked accusingly, "So, you're Erik's supposed friend, are you?"

There was a hint of doubt and sarcasm in her voice, which the Persian caught, as Father Thomas observed them talking.

"As a matter of fact, I am. My name is Nadir Khan. I suppose that you are Madame Giry? …Antoinette Giry, the woman who saved his life, a long time ago, from the gypsies?" Nadir replied calmly and confidently.

"Who told you?" Madame demanded threateningly.

"Erik told me. Do not worry, Madame, for I, too, have saved Erik's life, once. I am guessing that he has not told you about me."

Before Madame had a chance to reply, Meg and Christine emerged from the other room. Christine was wearing a beautiful white feminine shirt, with a very elegant, long blue skirt.

"You look beautiful, my dear," Madame said consolingly to Christine, trying to cheer her up.

The doctor chose that moment to emerge from Erik's room. They were all standing, as Christine exclaimed pleadingly, "Tell me, how is he, doctor?"

The doctor looked at Christine, then at Nadir, then at Madame Giry, as he said in a deathly calm voice, "His wound is very deep, and it has become inflamed. He is also burning up with fever, not to mention that he has lost a very significant amount of blood."

Taking a deep breath, he continued sadly, for no doctor in the world enjoyed giving bad news, "I'm afraid he doesn't have much time left."

"What! What do you mean?" Christine replied furiously, as she lunged at the doctor and grabbed him fiercely by the collar of his jacket with both hands, her knuckles turning white from the pressure.

She screamed again, "Answer me!"

Nadir immediately grabbed Christine by the waist and pulled her away from the doctor, who had turned as white as a sheet by Christine's unexpected outburst. The Persian held Christine as hysterical sobs wracked her fatigued body.

She kept whispering, "He can't die…He can't die."

Nadir looked at the doctor and asked, despair and grief evident in his calm voice, "Isn't there any hope?"

The doctor slowly shook his head, "I'm afraid not. Only a miracle can save him now."

Madame Giry had become deathly pale, as if all the blood had been drained from her body. She collapsed in a nearby chair. Her eyes were moist and filled with disbelief and grief, but she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't allow herself to cry.

Meg rushed to her mother's side and knelt by her chair. She took her mother's hand and asked worriedly, and in shock, "Maman, are you all right?"

"Don't worry, ma cherie, I'll be fine," Madame replied, her voice wavering slightly but as reassuring as she could be.

Christine suddenly pulled away from Nadir, as she turned to face the doctor.

"He will not die. I won't allow it!" Christine exclaimed fiercely.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Christine let out a cry of pain. Her hands flew to her stomach. Suddenly, stains of blood started appearing on her dress, by her upper legs.

"The baby!" Christine cried out in dread, before she collapsed completely, as Nadir caught her in his arms.

Yes, life sometimes gives us everything we've ever dreamed of, only to take it away from us in an instant. And yet, behind every storm there is a sun, behind every cloud there is a ray of light. There is always hope, and hope keeps us alive.

Somewhere, deep inside the universe of his dying heart, Erik listened.

_Little Lotte, thought of everything and nothing, her father promised her that he would send her the angel of music…her father promised her…her father promised her…_


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty Four: (Home)**

"_A kiss, maman, that's all I want for my birthday, just a kiss…Why do you always make me wear this mask, maman? …Why don't you love me? …Why?" little Erik pleaded and asked so desperately._

"_I will show you why!" Madeleine screamed in rage and despair, as she dragged little Erik behind her up to her room, the only place in the house that had a mirror._

_Little Erik looked at his reflection for the first time in his life, in shock and terror. Impulsively, he attacked the mirror, shattering it into a thousand pieces as he screamed in agony, and sobbing and crying hysterically. _

"_Monsters can never be loved." _

………………

"_Run away, Erik, run away…Find a place where no one can find you… Run away Erik, hide your hideous face…Monsters can never be loved," his heart painfully ordered. _

_Little Erik ran away from his mother's house…away from the torment…in a desperate attempt to find home._

"_After all, even monsters have homes, don't they?" _

_His aching heart trembled with a glimpse of hope. _

…………………

"_Come inside…come and see the devil's child…the devil's child…" Javert's voice echoed, with amused cruelty._

_Loud laughter - there was always loud, cruel, mocking laughter, as his master beat him ruthlessly, for the crime of having a deformed face…cutting pain surged through his body… blood seeped from the deep gashes that the whipping caused… his skin was red and swollen and cut everywhere…the pain…Erik could feel the bitter pain… not just the physical pain…the voices of that audience tormented him endlessly…Only one girl did not laugh…a girl that seemed different from the rest… To Erik's shock, she watched with pity and sadness in her eyes…_

_The show… the humiliation… the beatings… and then a rope tied around his master's neck, as Erik tightened the noose, more and more, strangling the life out of the man that tortured him for money…it was Erik's first kill… all he felt was deep hate, pain, and emptiness…_

Erik stirred a little in bed, burning up with fever, as the Persian was applying a herbal medication, an old Eastern remedy, to Erik's deep, infected wound. Although the doctor had said there was no hope, Nadir refused to stand by and watch his best friend die.

True, they had had their differences but Nadir valued Erik's friendship very dearly. As Erik stirred, Nadir paused for a moment, keenly observing, hoping against hope that perhaps a miracle would happen, and his friend would come back from where ever he was.

"The devil's child," Erik murmured softly and faintly, over and over again.

After a moment, the Persian realized with a sinking feeling that Erik was starting to hallucinate. He continued to gently apply the herbal mixture to Erik's wound.

x-x-x-x-x-x

The doctor had given Christine something to help her to sleep and to calm her nerves.

When he was done, he turned around to the anxiously waiting Madame Giry and Meg, as he said warily, "She should be fine. I have given her something to help her relax and sleep. The baby is fine."

Madame and Meg both breathed out a sigh of relief.

"She should rest, and rest a lot. I am afraid that another emotional outburst like the one she just had outside, and she might lose the baby," the doctor warned.

Madame nodded, as she replied reassuringly, "We will take good care of her, doctor."

x-x-x-x-x-x

"_I'm leaving, Erik," Antoinette said as gently as possible. _

_Erik's blazing, emotionless eyes, were locked to her stern blue ones._

"_You said that you would never leave me," Erik replied coldly, as he continued sarcastically, "but I guess I was wrong."_

"_Erik," Madame said softly, "I will always be there for you. I value our friendship very much. But I love Jules - you know that. I love him, and we're going to be married. It won't affect our friendship."_

"_Friends, Antoinette, don't abandon each other," Erik replied fiercely. _

"_Erik, I'm not abandoning you!" Madame exclaimed._

"_Go, Antoinette…Just go," Erik coldly ordered, leaving no room for argument or compromise. _

_He stood there, watching her as she slowly turned around and walked away, up the stairs back to the light, to the world where she belonged, leaving him all alone …alone …utterly alone…always alone…alone, as silent tears streamed down his masked face. Seventeen year old Erik had lost his one and only friend._

……………………

"_Run away, Erik, run away…Find home…A place where no one can hurt you…Even monsters have homes, don't they?" his aching heart silently questioned, as a small glimmer of hope still burned inside his being. _

_He packed the few items that he had. A few days after Antoinette had left, Erik left the Opera House as well. He was going to find home, even if he had to travel to the ends of the earth in his quest._

……………………

_Rome… India…Russia…_

_Erik was in Russia …he made his living, just as he had in all the other countries he had traveled to… he played magic tricks, tricks he had learned from the gypsies… people paid to see the magic… only no one ever saw the face of the magician, and so they called him the ghost…he always wore a long black cloak with a hood…and soon the Ghost became a legend, his fame and reputation spreading to the ends of the earth. _

_The sultan of Persia heard about this exceptional man, and sent his trusted Daroga, Nadir Khan, who workd in the palace, to fetch the Ghost…And thus came the rosy hours of Mazenderan…or perhaps, the horrible hours of Mazenderan…_

_Erik agreed to return with Nadir, back to Persia…Power…Erik wanted the power, if only for a short time._

_Later, Erik was forced to stay in the palace, and to entertain the khanum, the sultan's mother, who seemed to enjoy tormenting him._

"_Monsters can never be loved, Erik," she said seductively. "However, you are so very ugly, to the extent that you are almost attractive. Tell me, Erik, have you ever been with a woman?" _

_Erik grabbed the edges of his black cloak so hard that it almost tore in his hands, his knuckles turning white, as his hands almost bled from the pressure, but he didn't care for the pain._

_He wanted to kill her…to strangle the life out of her…Erik hated the khanum._

_Then came the torture chambers…all part of entertaining the khanum…By now, Erik had become a heartless man…a being without a soul…he tortured people for the sake of entertaining…he became an assassin as well…he killed for money._

………………………

"_There is no home for monsters, Erik…There is no home…There is only torment, hate, and bloodshed…That's what monsters do, that's what monsters are," his mind told him, as a surge of pain, a deep, excruciating pain was born inside the universe of his tortured being. A pain like none he had ever felt before…the pain of hopelessness…as he sank deeper into the welcoming darkness of his soul…_

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Home," Erik muttered over and over again.

Nadir was still at Erik's side. He had tried to stay awake, but had eventually fallen asleep on the chair where he was sitting, exhaustion overtaking him.

Meg slept on the couch that was present inside Christine's room, as Madame dozed off on her chair, by Christine's bedside.

Father Thomas stayed awake, praying and praying, all through that long, silent, dreary night.

All were trapped inside the tormenting unknown, waiting…waiting for life…waiting for death…waiting for the verdict.

x-x-x-x-x-x

_Erik was sentenced to death, because he knew too much…Nadir saved his life, he helped him escape, risking his own life… And Erik left the horror that was Persia, the horror that was the world…For ten long years, Erik had traveled from place to place…but there was no home…there were only torture chambers…prisons… murder… and hate._

_Erik returned to Paris, only to find that the Opera House was under renovation, and that a new manager, Monsieur Levefre, had bought it. Antoinette had returned as well, only she was Madame Giry now, a widow, and the mother of a little girl, whose name was Marguerite. _

_Erik claimed the cellars, and the darkness once again. They were his only home…down in the darkness he would be safe from the world, at last._

_Erik was older, and wiser, and his travels had taught him so many things, and had changed him in so many ways. He had become heartless, ruthless, and cruel. _

_And now in the Opera House that he had returned to claim as his home, he would be the ghost…an invisible creature…the being that he so longed to be._

………………………………

"_Papa, you promised me that you would send me the angel of music. You promised! Where is he…Where? Oh, Papa, how I miss you," a little innocent girl knelt in the chapel praying, her voice filled with grief and longing and pain, as tears streamed down her pale cheeks. _

_Erik had watched her come to that chapel daily, praying and begging her father, and God, to send her the angel of music. _

…………………………

"_I am your angel of music…Come to me, angel of music." _

_The little girl had grown into a beautiful woman. And, for the first time in his life, Erik was in love. Hope blossomed inside his soul once more._

_Now, he was more than just a solely spiritual presence in her life. _

…………………………

"_I gave you my music, made your song take wing, and now how you've repaid me, denied me and betrayed me."_

"_Monsters can never be loved," the voices from his past told him again, torturing him._

…………………………

"_Past the point of no return." _

_Christine had broken what was left of Erik's exhausted heart…she removed the mask in front of all the audience… the final betrayal…_

"_It's over now, the music of the night."_

_And he watched her sail away with another man, leaving him alone…so utterly alone…always alone…alone._

"_There is no home for monsters, Erik…There is no home," his heart whispered in agony._

"There is no home," Erik painfully whispered in his sleep.

"_When I removed your mask that day, I condemned myself to wear one for the rest of my life…Oh, Erik, forgive me," Christine whispered through her tears, as Erik listened to her from behind the mirror. _

_She had returned to him, after two long, agonizing years._

………………………………

"_Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to honor for as long as you both shall live?"_

"_I do," Christine answered, with the utmost love and care, that Erik could hardly believe it._

"_You alone can make my song take flight, help me make the music of the night."_

………………………………

_Pierre…the shadows of the past…guilt…a fair fight to the death…_

………………………………

"_Don't leave me, please don't leave me. I can't survive without you…you promised!" Christine's pleading voice rang inside the recesses of his being. Erik could still hear her calling. _

_He was lost inside his soul, inside the world of his mind and subconscious, but he could still hear her voice…she was calling to him… pleading with him…begging him…she needed him so desperately._

…………………………………

_A bright, beautiful light, as enchanted voices softly called out to him, beckoning him to go to them, "Come home, angel of music…We have been waiting for you…Come home."_

_Erik turned toward the light, with a deep yearning, so completely taken by its mesmerizing beauty. Peace…wonderful peace…overwhelming peace, flooded his tired soul…. a peace that he had never felt before in his life, but a peace that he had always dreamed of._

"_Home," he whispered with the utmost longing, as he started walking toward the light._

"_Home."_

_But Christine's voice caused him to look back, and there he saw her helplessly falling into a deep, dark pit. She was calling out to him so desperately, so frantically, that it crippled his soul with grief._

_And turning back to the light, he whispered, "I can't…I must go back…She is my home."_

Erik opened his eyes with the first rays of light…A new day had come.

There can be miracles, when you believe. And the greatest miracle of them all, is the miracle of love.

Erik had found his home, at last.


	36. Chapter 36

**Hello everyone, I know that it seems like the chapter count has gone down. And that's because I have been revising and editing this story. I have merged some chapters together. The content of the story is still the same. I have just tried to improve it for your eyes only! Hope that you'll enjoy!**

**Thank you all so very much for the wonderful reviews.**

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**Chapter Thirty Five: (Once Upon a Time)**

"_Yes, Erik did not die that night, like the doctor had expected. Instead he had lived. It seemed as if he had heard my anguished cries, and had returned to me, and our unborn child. _

_When the doctor checked up on him the next morning, he could hardly believe that Erik had survived through the night. And when I awoke later that morning, my soul was relieved beyond words, and my heart swelled with joy, to know that Erik was awake. And if it were possible to die of joy, then I would have died right then and there. Erik was alive! He was alive! He didn't leave me…he had kept his promise. _

_I can still remember, when I walked into the room that morning to see Erik, after the doctor had left, giving us new hope. His horrified, weak look broke my heart. How could it be, that a man who possessed such power, mystery and genius, was terrified of my reaction to seeing him without the mask, even after everything that I had given him. Had I not proved to him, time and time again, that I loved him, despite everything? _

_Perhaps he thought that I would leave him again, just like I had left him the first time, when I had seen his unmasked face. And I admit that I am to blame for implanting that perception into Erik's mind. It was my fear, and my weak will back then, that had caused me to betray him. But not anymore, now I was a strong woman. I knew what I wanted, and who I loved. I knew that Erik was my soul mate. And that without him I would, and could never be complete. _

_And walking to his bedside, without saying a word, I softly caressed his ravaged and twisted skin with my hand. Erik flinched a little at first, but eventually relaxed to the touch of my hand, on his deformed cheek._

_Nadir told me later, that the first thing Erik had asked for, after asking about me and the baby's wellbeing, was his mask. _

_But I erased Erik's urgent need for his mask, by showing him that I didn't care. I must have kissed his deformed cheek a million times, as silent tears streamed down his face, and mixed with mine. _

"_I love you, Erik," I whispered over and over again, "you are beautiful to me," and with that I kissed him again, and again. We must have stayed like that for a long time, for, and to my deep embarrassment, Madame Giry had to enter the room, to remind me that Erik was still very weak, and that I should let him rest, instead of showering him with unending kisses. And for the first time in my life, I heard Erik chuckle, as he let out a laugh, accompanied by a sigh of pain. And he continued to laugh softly. _

_Later on I learned that Erik had always been in contact with Nadir, and that Nadir hadn't lied to me, when he had told me that day in the cemetery that he was Erik's friend. Nadir was supposed to come, and check up on me that night, after Erik had kidnapped me off the stage. Erik had ordered Nadir to make sure that I was safely taken away from the Opera house, if I awoke before he had returned from his duel. _

"_Christine, meet my conscience," Erik said weakly, but lightheartedly, as he pointed with his hand towards Nadir, who was standing by Erik's bedside at the time. Nadir let a smile creep to his lips, and I couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped mine. _

_Erik's recovery was faster than normal, and in a few days, Erik was able to get out of bed, although still weak. And I could hardly believe this wonderful dream. It's amazing really, how in one dreadful moment, I thought that I was going to lose everything that truly mattered to me, my unborn child, and my Erik. But like Madame Giry always used to tell me, 'Behind every storm there is a ray of light, waiting to kiss a tear stained cheek, and to wipe the rain away'. How true that saying seemed to me then. _

_I took care of Erik, although he insisted that he could take care of himself. But I knew Erik, and I saw that he was still weak. So I insisted on helping him. And Erik, although stubborn gave in, at last. I suspect it was because he was too weak at the time, to argue with me any longer. After all, love works in mysterious ways. _

_Madame Giry and Meg had returned to the Opera house, so as not to cause any suspicion. But they secretly came to visit us at the church, as did Nadir. _

_And every time Madame Giry came to visit with Meg, she would have one of my dresses with her. She was secretly, and little by little, bringing my stuff to me. She also got Erik some clothes to wear, outfits that she had secretly taken from the costume rooms of the Opera House. She would also bring food, as did Nadir._

_The doctor came frequently to check up on Erik, despite Erik's great irritation, which somehow amused me._

_I told Erik, that if he loved me, he would let the doctor see him, knowing full well what Erik's reply would be. _

"_You know that I can refuse you nothing. Let the idiot doctor in," Erik replied._

_And I couldn't stop laughing…Ah, it truly was magic…miracles do come true!_

_Christian Charles, you'll never know how close I came to losing you and your father, once upon a time…"_

Christine's diary

x-x-x-x-x-x

**(The year: 1920)**

Christian didn't have time to react to what he had just read. He was startled out of his reverie, as Rose barged in, and exclaimed with excitement, "Grandpa is awake! Grandpa is awake!"

Christian swiftly hid the diary in the drawer, as he got up from his chair, and followed his overjoyed, and over excited, daughter. All the while, his heart was beating with the shock of knowing, beyond a doubt, that he was indeed Erik's son. Yet Christian tried as hard as he could not to think about it in those moments.

Lotte and Elizabeth were standing by Raoul's bedside as Christian and Rose entered. A lump was starting to rise in Christian's throat. After a few minutes, Raoul weakly asked to talk to Christian alone, as the rest of Christian's family excused themselves.

Rose and Lotte each planted a kiss on Raoul's forehead.

"I love you," Raoul whispered to both girls, in return.

Being left alone, Christian and Raoul looked at each other as Christian seated himself in a chair by Raoul's bedside. He was silently relieved that he was seated now, so that Raoul wouldn't notice he was trembling.

"Did you read it?" Raoul asked calmly, referring to the diary, and Christian understood.

"Not all of it, not yet," Christian replied truthfully, trying to steady his voice as much as possible.

"You are my son, aren't you?" Raoul asked with a weak, trembling, hopeful voice, as his eyes became moist with tears. And Christian's heart literally broke to pieces.

Christian thought he would suffocate. He felt claustrophobic in that room, at the sight of the man who had raised him like a father.

Looking deep into his father's desperate, hopeful, tired eyes, Christian slowly and calmly replied, after a moment's contemplation, breaking the intense silence with his slightly trembling voice, "Yes."

"Christian Charles De Chagny, you are my son…you are my son…I knew it," Raoul faintly exclaimed with great relief, and joy.

Seeing how happy Raoul looked in those moments, Christian knew that it was all worth it. After all, he wasn't really lying when he said 'yes'. Raoul may not have been his biological father, but he was his father in every other aspect.

And yet, Christian just wanted to be alone, to cry his heart out. He had lived his entire life in a lie, and for that, he didn't know if he would ever be able to forgive his mother. He couldn't blame her either – yet. First, he had to find out the whole truth.

To Christian's great relief, just when he thought he wouldn't be able to hold back the tears any longer, the doctor arrived.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Monsieur De Chagny, I'm afraid that your father's condition is still the same. I am not going to lie to you, Monsieur, just because he is awake, does not mean that he will get better," the doctor said gravely, after he had emerged from Raoul's room.

Christian just nodded, unable to speak. So many thoughts were running through his mind. God knows, that in those moments, Christian was overwhelmed with so many emotions, he didn't know what he was feeling anymore.

Lotte stood there silent, tears streaming down her face. Rose had a tantrum, and marched up to her room outraged with the doctor, who stood helpless before the situation.

John Raoul, who was named after Elizabeth's father and Christian's father, looked up at his mother, as he asked so innocently and sadly, his big brown eyes looking up pleadingly at his mother's blue ones, "Maman, is grandpa going to die?"

"I don't know, darling. Come, let me take you to your room, and I'll tell you a wonderful story," Elizabeth said softly, knowing how much little John loved hearing stories, just like his sisters. Only now, the girls were getting too old for fairytales.

"Really! Oh, I love stories!" little John Raoul replied enthusiastically, forgetting about everything else, and Elizabeth smiled inwardly. How easy it was to turn innocent young minds away from grief. If only it were that easy with grownups…

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christian retreated to Raoul's office, where he closed the door and locked it. At last, he was alone, as he silently tried to take in all that he had just found out. Just as silently, tears started rolling down his cheeks. Christian was outraged with himself. He was a grown man of forty-seven and yet he was crying like a little child. That fact alone irritated him greatly, and yet he couldn't seem to stop.

Christian cried for a few minutes, before he was able to regain his composure. Christian didn't have a single grey hair, and he looked at least ten years younger. And yet now, the emotion of the last few days – and especially the last few hours – were bringing lines to his face. With a few steady paces, he sat back down in his chair, as he opened the drawer, and carefully raised his mother's diary in his hands.

The wind was blowing outside, caressing Christian's face, as it entered through the open window. Light, the beautiful light of day filled the room with its warmth, and softly embraced Christian's soul, as he opened his mother's diary once again. Just when he expected to feel more turmoil, Christian was surprised to find that he only felt peace now.

Perhaps it was true, what Madame Giry had told his mother a long time ago, as he silently recited the words to himself: _"Behind every storm there is a ray of light, waiting to kiss a tear stained cheek, and to wipe the rain away."_

Christian could feel the warm rays of light gently caressing his face, as the wind continued to hum its silent song.

Now, he was ready… it was time to read the final chapters… of once upon a time… Little Lotte, and the Angel of Music… once upon a time…


	37. Chapter 37

**I have edited this, to say, that to submit a review, choose a chapter that you haven't reviewed yet, and submit your review. I will know that it's for this chapter. It's because of the editing that I did, that the chapter count changed. I have been receiving PMs from you concerning this matter, so I hope that I have helped clarify the confusion.**

**And now ladies and gentle men I present to you the new chapter. There is one more chapter to go, and an epilogue. So, this story is almost done. It saddens me, but like everything else in life, this also has to come to an end. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. Until next chapter... **

**Have a merry Christmas everyone!**

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**Chapter Thirty Six: (Never Let Go)**

With his hands clasped behind his back in silent thought, Erik stood by the window and looked outside. Everything was warm and bright. Nature was at her best. The gardens of the church were indeed very beautiful. He was wearing a red robe and black pants. Erik stood in silent reverie, before being interrupted by his angel's beautiful, concerned voice.

"You're out of bed! Erik, you know the doctor said you should rest," Christine exclaimed worriedly.

Erik turned around to Christine, as he looked at her for a few moments admiring her beauty. She had just come from the bathroom. Fortunately for both of them, the room which Erik had been given - in the back of the church - had its own bathroom. Christine stood there, wearing a long, velvet silk robe. Her beautiful, wet brown hair fell gracefully to her shoulders.

"Don't worry, Mon Ange, I'm fine," Erik replied reassuringly.

"You know that I worry about you," she said quietly, as she walked up to him.

Erik cupped her cheek with his hand, as he replied, ever so lovingly, his eyes locked to hers, "I know, but you mustn't."

"I can't help it. I love you so," she pouted.

And before she had a chance to continue, their lips had met in a beautiful, passionate kiss. They stood lost in each other's arms, savoring their closeness. Soon their breathing turned into deep passionate sighs, as Erik moved them towards the bed, when a knock sounded on the door of the room interrupting them.

"Who is it?" Erik called out irritably.

"It is I, Nadir," came the reply.

Erik rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed by Nadir's unexpected arrival and unwelcome interruption.

"Erik, go and see what he wants. It's rude to send visitors away," Christine softly whispered, before he had a chance to send Nadir away.

Christine left the sanctuary of Erik's arms. She entered the bathroom, to brush her hair and complete her toilette. Erik grudgingly opened the door of the room and went out to greet Nadir.

"So, what brings you here, this early in the day?" Erik asked with an unwelcoming tone, as he closed the door of the room behind him.

"Erik, there is something important that I need to tell you," Nadir whispered frantically.

'What is it?"

"First, are you certain that we can have some privacy?" Nadir asked cautiously

"Yes. Christine will be a while doing her hair," Erik replied casually.

"Good," Nadir sighed in relief, as he continued.

"Erik, when I was going out for my morning walk today, I saw the police searching the cemetery. They even had search dogs with them. Erik, it seems that Pierre wants to be certain he has killed you… Not to mention that they are watching all the exits from France, very carefully. Travelers are being inspected! They are looking for a masked man… that is what the newspaper said today…So, you and Christine can not leave France now. It is much too risky."

Erik stood still, in silent thought.

"What exactly have you done to this fellow to deserve his undying hate?" Nadir asked, with a rising surge of curiosity and exasperation.

Erik shook his head in disgust, as he hissed, "I should have killed the bastard…damn! … But I couldn't, not with Christine watching."

"Erik?" Nadir replied, pressing his previous question, waiting for Erik to answer.

"I killed his father. And I should have killed him. Just to think about all those times, when I had the chance to rid myself of him, but I didn't!" Erik seethed.

"You killed his father! Oh, please, Erik, tell me that it was self defense!" Nadir exclaimed in outrage.

Erik averted his eyes from Nadir's shocked and disappointed look, as a sigh escaped his lips.

"When I returned from Persia to claim the Opera House as my own, and to be its ghost, I instructed Monsieur Levefre, the new owner at the time, to keep Box Five empty for my use. And I also demanded a salary of 20,000 francs a month. Monsieur Levefre was an easy prey - I gave him a good scare one evening, and that was it. From then on, he did everything I wanted." Erik stopped for a few moments in thought, reflecting on those times.

"But soon, the new patron came, Monsieur Robert Richard, Pierre's father," Erik clarified, as Nadir continued to listen intently.

"Robert was not easily scared. And soon, I found out that Robert had informed the authorities that there was someone trying to blackmail him and the manager of the Opera. As a result, a thorough inspection of the Opera House was to take place. He had even turned Levfre against me, and convinced him to allow the inspection to occur. I was enraged by Robert's insolence and defiance of my orders. So I paid him a visit, at his luxurious home a few blocks away from the Opera house. On that fateful night…I killed him…I had nothing to live for. All I had was my hideout below the Opera House. I would have done whatever it took to keep it safe from the prying eyes of the world. I would even kill now, to keep my lair safe. And that's exactly what I did. Now you know the story," Erik's voice trailed off.

Nadir stood there, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Damn it, Erik! You promised me, and you broke your promise! I risked my own life to save yours!" Nadir replied angrily.

Just as Nadir was about to go on with his lecture, Christine came out of the room, wearing one of her beautiful dresses. Her hair was tied back in a bun, held in place with a beautiful red ribbon. Her bright smile lit the room, as she walked over to where Nadir and Erik stood. Erik wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her close to him. They were all standing in the hallway now.

Christine greeted Nadir warmly and smiled lovingly up at Erik. The atmosphere had changed as soon as she joined them - it had become joyous. Nadir and Erik didn't say a word about their conversation.

"So, what were you two talking about in my absence?" Christine asked with child-like curiosity.

"Nothing important, my angel," Erik replied casually, shooting Nadir a warning look. He continued cautiously, looking at her once again, "Christine, I must go with Nadir now. I need to get my things from the Opera House."

Christine looked up at him bewildered.

"You're still hurt, Erik. You haven't recovered fully! Not to mention that the police will probably still be in the Opera House! Erik, I don't think it's such a good idea!" Christine exclaimed in worry.

Erik gently placed his finger on her rosy lips, hushing her lovingly.

"Darling, you should know me better by now. I will not get caught by them. I know many other entrances to my lair. I need to get some important things. We will be leaving France tomorrow night," Erik replied.

"Tomorrow night! Erik, are you certain that you are strong enough to take such a journey? I mean, you're still hurt! And I'm afraid!" Christine whispered, her voice becoming lower with the intensity of her anxiety.

Nadir stood there watching the two lovers, wondering what Erik was up to.

"Trust me, Christine," Erik replied with his ethereal voice, just as he had done once before, upon that stage.

Then he continued soothingly and reassuringly, "We will be together."

And with that, he kissed her softly on the lips.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Are you insane, Erik! What in the world do you think you are doing!" Nadir exclaimed as they walked in the woods, away from the church and toward the Opera House.

"Perhaps I am insane, my friend, perhaps," Erik replied casually.

Erik couldn't help smiling at the sight of Nadir. He was enjoying Nadir's concern way too much.

"Honestly, Nadir, you should be happy. You are going to see my house at last. Heaven knows, you've been a pest for years now, bothering me to no end, just to quench your insatiable curiosity. Well, today, your curiosity shall be quenched," Erik continued with his dry humor.

"You are insane. Erik, I do not want to see your house. Damn, I just want you to come back to your senses. The police will catch you!" Nadir replied frantically.

"No, they won't," Erik said confidently.

"They don't call me the lover of trapdoors for nothing, you know. And don't flatter yourself. I'm not going back to my lair just to show it to you. That, my friend, was a joke. I am going back to my lair for far more important reasons…my Punjab lasso," Erik added.

Nadir sighed in defeat. There was no point in talking any more.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine walked out to the front of the church, where the pews were and the altar that she and Erik had stood before, taking their eternal vows to love each other _"until death do us part,"_ Christine whispered.

Looking down at her finger, where her wedding ring rested, Christine smiled._ "I'll never let go of this promise,"_ Christine thought lovingly.

She was about to enter the chapel to pray, when she heard father Thomas speaking to someone. Christine peeked out from behind the door where she was standing, at the back entrance of the chapel.

"I have come here, because I am in need of advice, Father," the man spoke.

Christine's heart caught in her chest. She knew this man!

"You know that the doors of the church are always open, my son. So, do not hesitate," Father Thomas replied calmly, reassuring him.

Christine stood there as if struck by lightning. The man did not see her, but she saw him…she saw him in the wheelchair, she saw how thin he had become, how pale. He was but a shadow of the man he used to be.

"Raoul!" Christine whispered in shock, as a scourging guilt swept through her being.

For a few moments Christine couldn't believe her eyes. How was it possible, that someone so full of life and joy like Roaul, would look so lifeless, so grieved? Now, she realized, exactly what Monsieur De Chagny was talking about, when he had told her that Raoul had been through hell. Christine hid behind the door, laying her back on the wall for support. Her entire body trembled with guilt and grief for Raoul. She cared for him, she deeply cared for him. But she loved Erik. She knew that, but would the guilt she felt allow her to live a peaceful life with Erik, knowing that it was built upon the suffering of others? Oh, how Christine wished to see Raoul happy, with a woman who would love him as he deserved.

"_We don't choose whom we love,"_ Christine found herself thinking, in silent reply.

Raoul began to speak to Father Thomas, and Christine listened.

"Father, I am so grieved. I feel so guilty, and this pain inside of me refuses to subside. I don't know what to do. I need to let it out."

Raoul breathed, his gaze falling to the elegantly carpeted floor, as he slowly continued, "I was married, and I let my wife go. I told her to leave, without even giving her any explanation. You see, at the time, I had had an accident, and I had just found out that I couldn't walk. I was in so much pain, and anguish, that I did not want her to suffer with me, in my hell. I did not want her to spend her life married to a crippled man, out of guilt, or pity, or responsibility. I wanted her with me because of love."

Raoul was grief stricken, as his voice trailed away.

"But, what made you think that she wouldn't love you, after what happened to you? True love is unconditional," Father Thomas spoke wisely.

And Christine realized, at Father Thomas's words, with even greater guilt, that what she felt for Raoul was not true love. True love was what she felt for Erik. She had not fought for her marriage to Raoul, like she should have. And at the time when Raoul had told her to leave, despite all her confusion, she had been somewhat relieved. And now, oh, how guilty she felt.

"Yes," Raoul replied slowly. "But, I would still like to believe that I did the right thing."

Father Thomas nodded, as he replied knowingly, "But now, you're having second thoughts. And that is why you have come here, to talk about it."

"Yes," Raoul said in shame. "I feel so selfish Father. I mean, I told her to leave, and now after having found out that I will be able to walk again, I want her back. I love her."

"Son, in this case, I suggest that you seek her out. Explain to her the circumstances that occurred. But remember, it's her decision now. She has every right to refuse returning to you," Father Thomas clearly stated.

Raoul's face turned ashen.

"I did. I went to seek her out, but I found out that the Opera House burned down. No one knows anything about her. I will never forgive myself if she is hurt. It was all because of me…" Raoul whispered, his voice was broken and filled with guilt and anguish.

Raoul buried his face in his hands, as tears trickled down his cheeks. Before Christine could stop herself, she emerged from behind the door and ran towards the sobbing Raoul.

"I'm fine… I'm fine… Oh, Raoul!" she cried out.

She fell to her knees by his side. Raoul lifted his head. His mouth hung agape and his eyes opened wide in shock, at the sight of Christine.

"Christine! Is that really you!" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Yes, it's me. It's me!" Christine cried bitterly, as she continued: "And it's you who should forgive me. Oh, Raoul, I never meant to hurt you…Never. And yet I have ended up hurting you as well."

They held each other, in a tight embrace. Both of them sobbed, each cried for different reasons, but both cried for the guilt they felt.

Father Thomas stood there in shock. Now, he realized that the woman the Vicomte was talking about was Christine!

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik entered his lair, with Nadir close behind him. He disappeared into one of the rooms of his lair, leaving Nadir alone. Nadir looked around in awe, at all the splendor that Erik had created and designed in his solitude. Erik emerged after a short while with two large bags in his hands. One had all his compositions in it, and some clothes. The other had all the money that he had gathered through the years. Erik was a rich man. He also had his Punjab Lasso with him.

Of course, Erik didn't reveal the contents of the bags to Nadir, although Nadir looked at him curiously.

"Let's go," Erik ordered.

"Your house, though dark and cold, is truly magnificent!" Nadir exclaimed, as he followed Erik through the passage ways to the outside world.

"Yes, beautiful designs can make a house, Nadir, but never a home," Erik replied bitterly.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine pulled away from Raoul. They had both calmed down now.

"Come back with me?" Raoul offered hopefully. Hope was blossoming in his tired eyes.

Christine's heart broke, as she looked at him. She took a deep breath, and wiped away the remainder of her tears.

"I can't," she whispered in reply.

"Christine, don't answer me now. I know that you must hate me, for not telling you the truth from the beginning. And I know that you have every right-"

Christine placed a finger on Raoul's mouth, cutting his sentence, and rendering him silent.

"It's not that. I don't hate you. I hate myself. I don't deserve you, Raoul," she said affectionately.

"No, no, don't ever say that, Christine!" Raoul exclaimed.

He gently cupped her pale cheek, and brought her face close to his. He was about to kiss her, when Christine quickly pulled away. She frantically rose up from his side.

"Go, Raoul, and be happy. We don't belong to each other. I belong to someone else," Christine stated desperately but confidently.

"_I love someone else,"_ Christine thought silently, unable to bring herself to tell Raoul that truth.

"What! …Who?" Raoul said in shock.

"It doesn't matter. Now, please, just leave!"

Christine was frantic; she just wanted him to go. She was afraid that if Erik returned to find Raoul, something terrible would happen.

"I'll go if you promise me to think about my offer, Christine" Raoul replied firmly.

"Alright, I'll think about it."

"Good, then. Tomorrow, I will come to the church, at this time, to have your final answer. Forgive me, Christine," Raoul sighed.

"There is nothing to forgive," Christine whispered painfully.

With that, she turned and ran toward the door that she had entered from. She ran to the safety of her room in the back of the church, where she collapsed on the bed, the bed where she had almost lost Erik and her unborn child. She cried until there were no more tears left to cry.

She couldn't stay with Erik now, knowing that her happiness would be built over Roaul's tragedy, knowing that her guilt would never let her be. She just couldn't abandon Raoul when he needed her the most. She just couldn't do it.

And at the same time, she couldn't leave Erik, knowing that she loved him with all her heart, mind, and soul. She just couldn't abandon Erik, when she loved him so… when he was just starting to recover from the countless wounds that life had so ruthlessly inflicted on him… that she had caused him. The guilt would never let her be. She just couldn't do it.

"_I can't live with or without you,"_ Christine whispered in anguish.

It's amazing how one decision can shape one's life in its image. And every choice we make, weaves its thread in that tapestry we call life.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"What's the matter?" Erik's voice cut through the silence.

Erik looked worriedly at Christine. He let the bags fall from his hands to the floor and he rushed to her side. Christine sat up straight on the bed - her eyes were blood shot.

"You've been crying," Erik stated in concern, as he asked, or more like ordered, "What happened?"

"_Whoever caused you to cry, my angel, will pay,"_ Erik thought in rage.

"Just hold me, Erik… just hold me, and never let go," Christine whispered.

And Erik obliged. He held her in his arms, and cradled her there for a long time. He knew that she would tell him, when she was ready. They were both as silent as death. And although Erik's wound was aching badly, he paid no heed to it. He kept holding Christine in his protective embrace, as if it was the last time, he would ever hold her.

_And never let go…_


	38. Chapter 38

**It has been a wonderful experience to write this story. I have enjoyed every moment of writing and sharing this with you awesome readers and fellow phantom phans. And now we reach to the end.   
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**Chapter Thirty Seven: (The horizon)**

Meg put her last dress in the suit case and closed it. She had packed all her things. A sigh escaped her lips as she sat down on her bed, still not believing all that had happened. Monsieurs Firmin and Andre had decided to sell the Opera House. Apparently, they had had enough of scandals and renovations to last them a lifetime.

Madame Giry and Meg were leaving the Opera house as well. Although little Meg didn't know it, Erik had given Madame Giry a large amount of money. They would be able to buy a good house, and keep themselves until Madame and Meg found other jobs, perhaps in another Opera house, because it was too dangerous for them to remain in the Opera Populaire any longer.

Erik did not want any harm to come to Madame or her daughter. He owed Antoinette so much. In many ways, she was still his friend, just as she had been when she had saved him from the gypsies, years ago.

Everything was changing so drastically and so quickly that Meg felt sad and overwhelmed all at the same time. She knew that she would miss this place. The Opera House held a part of her life that she would never forget. But she was excited and afraid of what lay in the unknown as well.

Opening the drawer of her dresser, there was still one thing unpacked - Erik's mask. When it had fallen from him in the cemetery after his duel with Pierre, Meg had found it.

"It appears that I am destined to be the one that always ends up with your mask… How ironic…"

Meg smiled, as she tucked the black mask in her handbag.

She looked at her room for one last time, as a tear rolled down her face.

"Goodbye," Meg whispered.

And she walked out of her room, carrying her suit case in her hand.

Madame had said goodbye to Monsieur Reyer, who had decided to retire as well. She also had said goodbye to Monsieurs Firmin and Andre. Carlotta had decided to go back to Spain. All her dreadful experiences here in Paris had caused her to hate France as a whole, and she and all her assistants were returning to Spain, where she would be the diva in one of its Opera houses.

Madame Giry looked at the Opera House one last time.

"I will miss it, too, Maman," Meg said knowingly.

Both women had to wipe tears from their eyes.

Yes, everything was changing. Everyone was leaving. It seemed that the Opera House would end up alone and abandoned after all.

"Goodbye," Madame Giry whispered, as she and her daughter got into the carriage.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine opened her eyes, only to find that she was alone in the room. She had slept in her dress.

She got out of bed and walked outside, where Father Thomas was in the chapel.

"Good morning, Father."

"Good morning, my child."

"Father, have you seen Erik?" Christine asked, and then continued hesitantly, "I can't seem to find him anywhere."

Father Thomas removed a letter from his pocket.

"He told me to give you this," he replied calmly.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Meg and Madame Giry walked into the church were they knew Christine and Erik would be.

"Mon Dieu," Madam exclaimed at the sight of Christine.

Christine was sitting in a chair, sobbing and crying as if her world had ended.

"Oh, Christine, what happened?" Meg added worriedly.

Father Thomas, who was trying to encourage Christine, excused himself and left them alone. Madame Giry sat next to Christine. She placed a comforting hand on Christine's shoulder.

"Erik left me," Christine cried softly.

And the horizon sighs…

x-x-x-x-x-x

"_Once more, I was the Countess De Chagny. One year later, Meg became the Baroness De Markeez. And Madame retired. She was a ballet instructor no longer._

_Seven years later, and on his deathbed, Monsieur Phillipe De Chagny confessed to me that he had been the one who had signed the divorce papers. Later on, he had realized his mistake and had pulled strings to have the divorce erased from the files._

_Everything seemed to go back to the way it was, as if I had never been divorced from Raoul, as if I had never been married to my angel. But in my heart, everything was different. My love for Erik never wavered or weakened. I loved him more with every passing moment. I missed him more with every breath I took._

_Christian Charles, you gave me strength and you restored my joy. You made my life worthwhile. _

_Raoul, I can never repay your love and compassion. You truly are my prince._

_Erik, I love you with every fiber of my being, with every breath I take. My love for you is immeasurable. And I know in my heart that someday we will meet again. Like you told me once, 'We will be together.' _

_  
And as I sit here, after having written all of this, I wonder if I've done a mistake. Maybe I shouldn't have started writing any of this, for the memory of it is just too beautiful and too painful, even for your lifeless pages to bear, dear diary._

_Maybe I should've let the memories remain a secret in my heart, to continue existing in silence, like they always have, inside the universe of my soul. But my heart was suffocating under the weight of it all, and it needed to let it out, for the past has been torturing me ruthlessly._

_And now I feel that a great burden has been lifted from my shoulders. I can breathe again, and amazingly enough, I somehow feel free, and at peace with my heart and soul._

_And in the end, I realize that Life goes on despite all the dreams, and the nightmares that one experiences. The hands of the clock never stop, for any joy, or any grief. Time passes by, and takes everything with it, every smile and every tear, nothing remains, nothing but the memories of once upon a time, the echoes of the past."_

Christine's diary, last page

**(The Year: 1920)  
**  
Christian turned over the page, only to be faced with a void. A folded paper fell down from the diary, to the desk in front of him. Christian had to wipe the tears from his eyes. For the first time in his life, he wished that he could turn back time. Perhaps then, his parents would have made different choices. Perhaps then, he would have met his real father, and known him. But Christian was a realistic man, and he knew that he was wishing for the impossible.

The wind blew outside as the leaves rattled in reply. The sun had started to set. Christian rose up from his chair and walked toward the window, the letter in his hands. He watched that glorious scene. For a few moments, he just lost himself in that paradise, the paradise of the horizon.

And after a few minutes, Christian looked down at that folded paper that lay at his fingertips.

Christian rested his back on the wall by the window. He raised the letter and unfolded it with the utmost of care. His heart was beating so fast and so loud that it sounded like a drum. Before the eyes of the setting sun, Christian began to read.

_"My Angel, My Rose_

_As I sit here writing this letter to you, words seem to fail me. Oh Christine, please forgive me. I realize at last what I must do. All my life, I have done what I wanted without thinking whether it was right or wrong. You see, I always had to fight to survive, and so I learned to be selfish. But you, Christine, you taught me the meaning of selfless love. You were the light in my darkness, you are the light in my darkness, and you always will be._

_But oh, Christine, I have done things that I am not proud of, things that, were you to know, you would end up hating me. I know that you say that you love me unconditionally, but I have come to realize that I don't deserve your love._

_I don't want my child to know me. I don't want this child to suffer because of me. I want my child to grow up in a warm and loving family, something that I never had, but always dreamed of. I know that I can never give him that. I am a wanted man after all. I must spend all my life hiding. The world will never accept me, Christine._

_You are my home. You always will be, and I will always be with you. But you must go back to your home. You belong to the light._

_You don't have to choose anymore, Christine. I can see the anguish and the torment in your eyes._

_For once in my life, I am going to do the right thing. I am going to let you go. I told you once that we were the horizon. But oh, Christine, what I failed to mention was that the horizon's life is but an instant in time, a moment in space. And then the horizon dies._

_I don't want my darkness to kill your light._

_I love you.  
Erik"  
_  
Christian put the letter down, and understanding dawned upon him. Tears were falling freely down his cheeks, as he looked at the magnificence of the horizon.

"Monsieur, pardon me for the interruption. But I just remembered something very important," Isabel stated upon entering the office.

Christian quickly wiped away his tears, before he looked back at her.

"What is it?" he replied after a few moments, when he was able to speak.

It was obvious that he was annoyed by her interruption.

Isabel brought the portrait up in her hands.

"We also found this, Monsieur, when cleaning out your mother's room," Isabel replied nervously.

Christian took the portrait from her hands and stared at it in awe. It was the portrait that Erik had drawn of Christine, that night when she had waited for him in her room, wearing the beautiful blue nightgown.

Isabel continued nervously, "We found it hidden in your mother's closet. I thought that you would want to know about it, since you are reading the diary. I didn't tell Monsieur Raoul because I thought it improper."

"You did well, Isabel. Thank you for telling me," Christian replied calmly and almost absentmindedly.

Then, looking back at her, he continued, "You may leave now."

Alone once again, Christian stared at the portrait. His sight fell upon the inscription on the bottom of the painting.

"_Goddess of beauty, my angel, my Christine"_

Christian couldn't see anymore, as the tears flooded his eyes. He looked at the horizon once again.

"You're together now. Someday, I will meet you, father. I know I will," Christian whispered, a breath into that majestic horizon.

**(The Year: 1872)  
**  
A single candle was burning in the room, casting its beautiful eerie shade into the darkness of the night, its soft light piercing the darkness. Erik sat on a chair by a small table in that room, writing his goodbye letter to Christine.

Earlier that day, she had told him everything about Raoul and his condition and what he had asked of her. Erik closed his eyes for an instant, and he could still hear her beautiful melodious voice.

She had confidently said, "But I want to stay with you, Erik. I choose you. I love you."

Then, another scene flashed before his eyes, something that he had done after Christine had chosen him, had loved him so unconditionally.

_Pierre fiercely struck his desk with his hand as he roared, "What do you mean, they didn't find a body! He must be in the cemetery. I killed him! I know I killed him!"_

_Francois stood in silence and fright, as Pierre started to calm down and continued in disgust, "I should have buried that bastard with my own two hands."_

_Francois just looked at his master nervously, as Pierre dismissed him with a wave of his hand._

_Standing alone, he hissed to himself, "Never mind. I will not rest until I find you, Erik, dead or alive, sooner or later."_

_"Well, it's going to have to be sooner, because there will be no later for you," a voice answered menacingly._

_Pierre turned around, looking frantically all around the room._

_"Who said that?" Pierre demanded._

_"I did."_

_The voice was coming from directly behind Pierre. He swiftly whirled around, only to be faced by a masked man with two blazing emerald eyes._

_Pierre gasped at first. He moved a few steps away from the man he hated, and then he hissed, "Phantom!"_

_"Yes, Phantom," Erik hissed back._

_Before Pierre had a chance to call out for help or to defend himself, Erik had wrapped his Punjab lasso around Pierre's neck. He snapped it. As the rope tightened on Pierre's neck, the blood came gushing out from the scar that Eric had given him that night in the cemetery. And Pierre fell just where his father had fallen._

_Erik stood over Pierre's dead body for a few minutes, breathing slowly and deeply, with anguish, with satisfaction, and with guilt. Erik looked at his bloodied hands for a few moments._

_A tear rolled down his masked face, and fell beside Pierre's body._

"_Now, you can rest. You can't hurt those that I love anymore. In an ironic way, Pierre, you've had your vengeance, and I've had my punishment," Erik whispered._

_And with a twirl of his cape, Erik disappeared from that place, leaving another dead man on the floor beside a shattered family portrait._

Now, sitting in the silence of the night with a quill in his hands, Erik could still smell the blood of his crimes. No matter how hard he washed his hands, the stain would always remain. Even if no one else ever saw it, he would always see it.

Writing that goodbye letter to Christine was the hardest thing that he had ever done. But now, more than ever, he knew that it was the right thing to do. Erik placed a single red rose, tied with a black satin ribbon, a symbol of his undying love, by her bedside. He pressed his lips to hers softly, his last goodbye, and Christine stirred a little in her sleep.

And just like the shadow that he was, he disappeared into the endless night.

The next morning Christine awoke to find the letter. The portrait that Erik had drawn of her was left in the room, alongside the red rose, his eternal gift to her.

With a trembling hand, she removed her wedding ring. Erik had freed her of her promise. And instead of leaving with Erik from the church that day, she left with Raoul, and a broken heart.

_And the horizon dies._


	39. Chapter 39

**Epilogue:**

"_How shall I start? What can I say? How can I express what I feel inside? My hand trembles, and my heart stumbles over all the beautiful and painful memories… Words are not enough. _

_But I guess, I will start with something that my angel taught me._

_There are many mysteries in the world, but the greatest mystery of them all, is the mystery of the heart, for there is no other mystery as haunting, as frightening, as beautiful, and as tormenting, as the mystery of the heart._

_And so begins the story…Little Lotte and the angel of music…the rose and the nightingale…Erik and I_

_And the greatest mystery of them all is the mystery of the heart…"_

Christine's diary first page

_**The End.**_


End file.
